Unsmile
by Carnival Sleeper
Summary: When two forces collide their fundamentals are challenged, every part of them called out into the open, and only the stronger of the two will emerge still intact. After Lucy becomes inadvertently involved in the darkest reign of crime in Gotham's history, will her light be able to withstand the overpowering presence of the most influential person she's ever encountered? {Joker/OC}
1. Painting Faces

**A/N** _ **:**_ _I love to challenge myself with characters and recently I've been looking a little more into one which I feel might be the most challenging ever –Heath's portrayal of the Joker. I love to delve into the fundamental development of the characters I write for, so I'm going to explore this iconic villain, all of his inner workings and all the ways I can possibly develop him to his fullest extent._

 _I invite you to take on this journey with me, to witness if I can believably evolve him, while still holding true to who he is. Definitely a huge endeavor, and so I'd love for you to help guide me along through this process ;) I'm a romance writer primarily, and so this story will be centered on that element, which is perhaps the most difficult part of all of this. Is the Joker even capable of love? This is a question I intend to explore, and I'm eagerly looking forward to discovering the answer along with all of you._

 _I've done some research on the sociopathic disorder (I know it's been debated whether or not he's truly a sociopath or a psychopath, but for this to even be remotely possible, I decided on the former. I also do see it as being more probable of Heath's portrayal, mainly because I believe his madness was more a cause of his environment rather than genetics). I also use the MBTI/Enneagram theory to shape both his character type and the OC. I hope you enjoy the first chapter and please let me know what your thoughts are as it progresses._

 **Disclaimer:** _I do not own this world or any of the masterful DC Comics characters._

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter I: Painting Faces

" _I got so used to the changes_ _  
_ _Moving from stranger to strangest_ _  
_ _You should face it_ _  
_ _I am crazy"_

 _-Jhene Aiko_

 **{.+.}**

One hand shifted the scratch paper slightly as the other ran several, vigorous lines in streaks of vivid gray. Her head bent a little closer, eyes narrowing in concentration. For a moment, she was able to escape the noise and harsh atmosphere around her –escape into nothing but her imagination.

…

Slamming the cracked mirror closed over the cabinet with a haphazard hand, a set of dark eyes lifted to behold his broken reflection, lips smacking and smirking in observation before that same haphazard hand swiped a sloppy layer of white and began slathering it over the jagged contours of his face.

…

Substituting the lead of her pencil for a delicate finger, she began to shade the outlines, offering a little more depth to the image on the paper. She followed pre-determined shapes and skeletal strokes as she tossed her head to move her bangs from where they'd fallen over her eyes, the blue of them fixed intently on her task.

…

Flinging some of the excess, thick paint from his fingers, he moved to the next color, squinting one eye as he lifted the container and frowning at what little remained of the inky black. But, with a harsh shrug, he carelessly slathered it around and over his eyes, watching the image take form—his personal masterpiece.

…

After the shading, she reclaimed her pencil and began to make a few remaining adjustments and touch-ups, watching the drawing come together and solidify. A nameless portrait with abstract features, a personification of discontent; nothing but a creative outlet for what she was currently feeling.

…

And last but _certainly_ not least, the man tossed the black aside and reached almost hungrily for the tube of red. He squeezed it directly over the disfiguring scars that ran up from his mouth, stopping over the maniacal set of his lips themselves. He mercilessly coated it all until he was left with nothing but the welcome sight of his clownish grin.

…

With a sigh, she set the pencil down and lifted her head to observe the finished picture. Her eyes ran up and along each line, seeing imperfections here, and areas for improvement there. She felt her discontent returning, the reprieve disappearing.

…

He lifted his head, gave it a swift shake, hair disheveling as he tore himself away from that mirror and reached for his coat, gleeful steps carrying the Joker to some activity which would appease his _endless_ need for chaos—the endless _need_ for some sort of stimulant.

…

"Lucy!" A loud voice called, and the girl was immediately jolted from her observation, instead looking up to see the angry set of her boss' expression. "Are you just going to sit around, or are you actually going to be doing some work today?"

Lucy frowned and slowly stood from her chair, already aware that responding to an accusation like that was useless. It was 8:00 at night, the rush long having past. Right now, she was just waiting on the last of her tables to leave so that she could add up her tips and go home. But, the guy was one of the most unreasonable people in existence, so she kept her mouth shut.

Looking to her drawing, she shook her head before reaching out and crumpling it into a tight ball, making sure to toss it into the trash as she turned to idly grab a rag and re-clean her unused tables. Glancing up, she watched as her asshole of a manager lumbered off to his office, where he'd just be sitting on his lazy ass for the next couple of hours.

The noise and harshness of this place returned in full, as she looked around the room. Crooks of all types frequented this bar, which was so conveniently placed right smack in the middle of the Narrows. But, it was within walking distance of where she lived, convenient and with pretty good pay, all things considered.

She just had to save up enough to get herself the hell out of this place, move inland and live amongst some normal people. The endless crude comments and abrasive behavior of the people around here could get pretty wearisome after a while.

She'd heard so many stories of young girls being mugged, raped and even murdered, and she wondered if her luck could stay with her long enough for her to leave the decaying neighborhood behind. It was pretty much an everyday worry in the back of her mind, the horror of those thoughts making it difficult to even sleep sometimes.

But, she wasn't alone and was never allowed to walk home by herself either. Her older brother had made it his job to accompany her and had even staked his claim to the couch in the living room of her one bedroom apartment in exchange for helping out with groceries.

Unlike her though, he had no intention of leaving the Narrows at all. He always told her that business was too good, his cliental built up after several years and in continuation of the legacy their dead beat of a father had left for him as a dealer of assorted drugs.

She hated that he couldn't leave it behind, but there was absolutely no changing his mind either. Argument after argument and he continued to stick with his stubborn ways. He always believed he was in the right, and she was so strongly opinionated that she just couldn't help but call him out on that.

One time, the argument had even gotten so bad that she'd thrown an iron at him, though it missed him completely, something she was very grateful for now. It'd taken her awhile to move past her temper issues, but as the years wore on, she felt that it was becoming an easier thing to overcome. He really did just always know _exactly_ how to push her buttons though.

Looking up at the TV, she watched as the reporter was informing them of yet another building that had been set on fire in the area –one of several arson-suspected crimes. She felt the familiar urge in her stomach then, the urge for escape. But, as much as it disturbed her, her eyes stayed locked on that screen, watching that building burn, letting it fuel her ambition.

"Hey!" A gruff voice called, and she tore her eyes from the screen to see her customer waving an empty glass impatiently.

Lucy muttered a swift, but unrepentant 'sorry' to him, before turning to grab him another drink. It was going to be awhile still until she could leave and head home, and that thought was kind of depressing.

When she turned to head back to the guy's table, she handed the beer to him, taking his empty glass and noticing how aged and worn his face was up close. Would her brother look like this someday? Years of the criminal life showing physically, leaving traces of so many awful chapters in his personal story.

Lucy stepped away, her thoughts dragging her mind off somewhere else again. She looked to the window as sparse drops of rain randomly splattered the glass, and watched as the veins of water trickled down, her hand suddenly feeling warm with the desire to recreate that effect on paper.

There was some sort of beauty to it, and that observation re-confirmed her most fundamental belief –that even in a place like this, there was beauty to be found _somewhere_. In all her life, within everything that had led her here, she'd managed to hold onto that belief and was determined to never let it go. It was something she needed for those times when she wasn't always so grounded in reality, when her emotions would get the best of her, when she'd feel like she was losing her identity.

And so it became her identity, which was something she'd been trying to shape for as long as she could remember. Her interest in art had helped with that. It outwardly revealed to her the things she couldn't always sort out for herself.

The rest of the evening passed slowly, and it was only when the clock was nearing the numerical '11', that Lucy was told to leave. She made the call to her brother and waited in the dark, empty interior of the bar before she spotted him outside.

Jumping up from her spot on one of the tables, she stepped out from the worn out place and shut the rickety, wooden door behind her, the cool night surrounding her and re-awakening that primal fear of all things lingering around in the dark.

After habitually looking up to see that the establishment's 'Ace Note' neon sign was off, Lucy turned and offered a half-smile to her drug dealer of a brother.

"Hey, Len," she said in a tired voice.

He just jerked a thumb behind him, his mouth showing his jagged teeth as he curtly said, "let's go."

She followed behind him, watching as Len walked the streets without concern, his stride so comfortable in this place. She was really the only one who ever used his given name too, as everyone else referred to him by his street name: 'Lucky'.

Apparently, it'd come from way back in his High School days, where he'd reminded people of a Leprechaun both in appearance and in profession. He often liked to use the Lucky Charms slogan for his assorted goods.

' _They're magically delicious_!' was something she'd overheard more than once.

And as far as his appearance, well, she could definitely see why people thought it. He was lanky and even a little impish looking, a troublemaker to his core. He had her same coloring of blue eyes and sandy-colored hair and so, on him, it just added to the whole…rascally effect.

"Oh, hey," Len's steps slowed as he matched pace with her. "Guess what?"

Lucy rolled her eyes and sighed before looking over at him, never really liking where that phrase usually led. "What?"

"I might be goin' on a little break from the drug trade," he chuckled. "Thought you'd be happy to hear that."

There was a brief excitement that Lucy felt, before it quickly left her. She'd gotten her hopes up so many times already, and at least _this_ time he was being honest in saying that it was only a 'break'. "Really?" She said flatly.

Besides, the way he chuckled inspired a flare of anger to shoot through her chest. Did he think that her worrying over his lifestyle was _funny_?

"Yep," he nodded, looking ahead. "Got another job offer, and the pay is killer. My friend hooked me up. He got wind of some spots opening up after some bank robbery downtown."

"What's the job?" Lucy asked, feeling a dread start to creep its way through her frustration with him.

"Bounty hunting," he looked at her. "Working with a local thug. Don't worry," he held up his hands at Lucy's very concerned expression. "It's outside of the mob, apparently."

"And that's supposed to _comfort_ me?" She asked, barely containing her rage. Did he really expect her to feel relieved that he was stepping away from drugs to _this_?

"What?" He asked. "It's an easy job. Secure. It'll be just like Jango Fett."

Lucy just looked away then, glaring deeply and mouth setting in a firm line. He was going to get himself killed, and there was nothing she could do about it. The only real thing she _could_ do would be to turn him over to the cops, but each time she even so much as considered it, the words her father had drilled into their upbringing would come to mind. All the warnings and mistrust against the corruption of law enforcement. She'd sworn that she would only use it as a last resort, if things ever got really bad, but…she also knew that Len would _never_ forgive her for the betrayal.

In that moment though, she felt so angry and so afraid that she didn't feel she could even look at him without crying in frustration, and she hated crying. Hated how weak it made her feel. She always felt that she was being even partially irrational, not that such a thing really served to spare her on most occasions.

They walked the rest of the way to the apartment in silence and, once there, Lucy rushed up the stairs, unlocked the door and made a mad dash for her room before the idiot could say anything to her. She slammed her door shut and then heard her brother huff loudly before turning on the TV.

Placing a hand over her eyes as she squeezed them shut, Lucy breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm herself. She felt so helpless, everything about this situation completely out of her control and giving her an extremely bad feeling.

Her hand drifted down to cover her mouth as she shook her head, taking another sec to try and get a handle on herself. She moved both hands through her hair and exhaled loudly as she continued to blink her eyes, willing those tears away.

Crying wouldn't fix anything.

She looked to the canvas resting on a make-shift easel by her bed, and paused before stomping towards it, lifting a brush, and furrowing her brows as her lips slightly pouted in determination. She dipped the tip of the brush into whatever color was nearby and unleashed several angry strokes on the white, releasing her frustration.

Lucy didn't really know how long she sat there just stroking and stroking until she could breathe easier, but eventually she found herself sitting back to observe what she'd left behind.

Red, orange, black, yellow…all strewn across like some angry sunset with a very faint shape of a face swirled within. There was _always_ a face; a face for every emotion she used her instruments to discharge.

Tossing the brush into a cup of water, Lucy just sat there staring at what she'd created. It didn't make any sense, there was no technique, but…it was somehow perfect. Even more perfect than that drawing she'd tried so hard on earlier that evening.

However, the most important thing was that she felt a little better; had managed to calm down, even if the worry was still very much _there_.

Standing, she listened for the TV and, hearing nothing, she cautiously stepped to the other side of the room to her door, where she peered out slowly and sighed as she saw Len sleeping.

Crossing her arms, she made her way across the dark distance towards him and shook her head before lifting the blanket from the floor and laying it over him carefully. She observed his face as another worried frown took hers before she turned and then paused as something on the coffee table caught her eye where his wallet sat.

Leaning down, she lifted the single playing card curiously before turning it over as confusion set in. She tried to make sense of why her brother would have it, but no immediate answer came to mind until…

' _Working with a local thug,'_ he had said.

Lucy Lockett's hand tightened over the card face, over the image of the jester depicted there. She'd heard several rumors swirling around the bar about some new loon hiding out in the neighborhood. No one seemed to really take him seriously, but he'd done at least enough to earn himself a little gossip.

Was _he_ the one her brother was going to work for? This 'Joker' person?

 **{.+.}**

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 ******* I went semi-canon with Lucy's brother. He's one of the thugs who brings the Joker to Gambol. Played by Bronson Webb. And the visual reference I'm using for Lucy is Britt Robertson :)


	2. Jester Smiles

**A/N:** _So happy that this story has already received some attention! I'm going to try and update as frequently as I can, but I do have a fairly busy schedule. Just bear with me please, everyone! :)_

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter II: Jester Smiles

" _I can't explain something I don't understand.  
Why did I let this get out of hand?  
Maybe I'll get you out of my head."_

 _-Alina Baraz_

 **{.+.}**

Lucy hadn't slept well, thoughts and anxieties over Len plaguing her thoughts, and that damn card face menacingly showing itself in her mind's eye. She lifted a hand and let it linger through her hair as her eyes lifted to see the smog that was visible along the cityscape. From her view on the rusted, iron stairs of her apartment, she could make out only vague details of the waking mainland.

The sky had just begun to lighten, the early gray casting eerie shadows and serving to increase her feeling of foreboding. Len had already left, and so she just imagined him out there, meeting with his new employer, foolishly involving himself in something which _no one_ around here seemed entirely certain of.

Just because no one was taking the clown seriously, didn't mean there wasn't any danger in it. It was an unpredictable situation, and Lucy hated the unpredictable –hated the unknown factor. It made her feel even more powerless. Besides, she wasn't just going to take what everyone _else_ was saying to heart. This whole thing was giving her a feeling of dread she couldn't ignore, and her instincts were what she resolved to stick with.

 _Somehow_ , she needed to convince Len to walk away from the job. Even if it meant returning to drug dealing, at least _that_ was something she was familiar with. Something they both understood.

With a shiver, she tugged the sleeves of her jackets further over hands, the crisp air sweeping past harshly, tangling her hair and reddening her face. Closing her eyes, she breathed it into her lungs, letting the stark chill fill her. She hated the feeling, but somehow _loved_ it also. It made her feel so… _alive_ , and it brought a certain clarity that she desperately clung to.

Because all of this worrying was starting to drive her a little bit crazy.

And then the image of the jester again interrupted her serene moment, and she opened her eyes swiftly, setting her mouth in frustration, before rising and turning to march back inside.

It was getting pretty cold outside anyway.

Lucy stepped in and rubbed her hands together to warm them before moving to the thermostat and biting her lip as she turned the temperature up just a couple degrees. _'Can't really afford much more than that, unfortunately.'_

With a sigh, she looked around the room and towards the kitchen before she decided to make some tea to calm herself. Moving to the stove, she went about preparing a mug and filling the kettle, and then drummed her fingers on the counter as she waited.

She didn't _want_ to worry, wanted to keep her mind preoccupied, but she had always been prone to sort of… _revel_ in her feelings, indulging them, even the ones she didn't want to feel as much. It never really helped things.

Shaking her head, Lucy saw that image again, that joker card. Why did it keep popping up? She supposed, though, that it really _was_ the root of the entire issue.

Recalling how her brother had laughed when he'd told her about the job, she narrowed her eyes. The idiot.

Jumping then when the kettle went off, Lucy admonished herself a little before reaching out to turn off the stove and then pouring the water over a bag of chamomile. Her eyes lowered and she caught herself staring down into her cup, watching as the brew changed the water, watching the color bleed across and transform its surroundings completely.

After tilting her head, briefly fascinated for a moment, wondering if something similar could be done on paper, she felt the twinge of a new worry. What if all of this someday… _changed_ Len? What if he became someone entirely different? Someone she couldn't even recognize anymore?

Then the card reappeared in her thoughts, and she angrily pursed her lips before turning and taking the unsweetened cup of tea with her.

Suppressing that image obviously _wasn't_ the answer, so she decided that she would literally try and _pull_ it from her mind. Walking into her room and approaching her easel, she stood and stared at it a moment, before taking a determined sip of tea and then slamming it down on the desk. She took the rubber band from her wrist, secured her hair into a loose ponytail, and prepared to transfer her thoughts to the canvas.

Sitting on the stool, she tilted her head and willingly greeted the image in her mind, first determining the colors she would need. Red, black and white primarily, but she would need varied shades of each as well. Reaching for a brush, she mixed a few things together onto a palette and then lifted her eyes to the blank sheet of white.

' _Alright, let's get you out of there,'_ she silently declared to the infuriating face on the card.

Setting her hand to the task, she spent the next few hours recreating what had been troubling her thoughts, watching as it all took form, feeling its shift from some internal presence to something very external and infinitely more welcome.

Lucy paid extra attention to the face of the clownish character, making sure to have it appear just as menacing as it's intrusion into her mind had been. She narrowed her eyes scornfully at it, while delicately detailing each feature.

When she felt that there wasn't anything she could possibly adjust, she sat back to observe the piece in its entirety, habitually searching for any overlooked imperfections. However, as her eyes settled back onto the creature's face, they widened a little and a surprised smile slowly started to pull at her mouth.

It was…extraordinary.

Lucy gently ran a finger along one side of the canvas, somewhat humbled by what she saw. She suddenly couldn't despise the image for plaguing her as it had. After all, without its persistence, she could never have created _this_.

Continuing to stare at it, continuing to admire it, the minutes pressed on, the obnoxiously loud clock on her wall very _audibly_ ticking the seconds away. But then, as Lucy scrutinized the details of it more extensively, an unsettled feeling began to creep over her.

Something was off.

She frantically began to search for what it could be. There was something _within_ the flawless precision of the piece, but she couldn't quite place _what_ it was.

Lucy sighed heavily and shook her head. Whatever it was, it was subtle, but also so significant that it consequently left her feeling suddenly dissatisfied with the entire thing.

' _Maybe if I try again I'll figure out what it is?'_

Mind made up, she grasped her brush again and reached for another canvas, diving into yet another depiction of the same subject. She allowed the image to continue inspiring her as it guided her hand along however it willed her to. She immersed herself entirely into the recreation, paying even more attention to the details of it.

But, as she again stepped away, standing and stepping back a few paces, crossing her arms and tilting her head in consideration, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Again, it was exquisite, but she _still_ couldn't pinpoint what was bothering her about the image. The technique was so _perfect_.

' _Maybe I'm just overthinking this. Maybe I'm just_ _ **expecting**_ _there to be something wrong with it.'_

She'd always been her own worst critic, after all.

With a frustrated sigh, Lucy abruptly turned to leave the room, taking her cold cup of tea with her. Maybe if she just took a break, she could return with a fresh set of eyes and see it all differently.

As she closed her door, she was almost tempted to turn and cast a glare at the two jesters smiling out at her from their respective canvases. Yeah, they were just eating it up, weren't they?

Taking a sip of the cold brew in her cup, Lucy glanced down and grimaced before moving to the microwave to warm it up.

…

Violent streaks of orange and yellow were thrown _this_ way and _that_ across Gotham's sky, and the Joker stepped up to the battered window of the makeshift warehouse/hideout as his lips pursed at the observation. It was almost time to start the whole… _team_ building process.

With a swift shift of his dark eyes to the van that had pulled up, _oh_ …ten minutes ago? He nodded to himself at the time estimate and then took to observing the fresh new recruits. After the… _shoot-out_ at the bank, he'd really needed to find some extra muscle.

Tilting his head, he almost clicked his tongue. Well, maybe _muscle_ was a stretch. _'But beggars can't be choosers in time such as these.'_

 _Oh_ , they looked _so_ young and so very _nervous_. He watched as their eyes scattered about, watched as their fidgety, little forms trembled from more than the chilly weather. He could already sense how much _fun_ this was going to be.

They were in for _such_ a treat. The very thought was _really_ serving to lift his mood.

And they were also waiting for him to take the initiative and let them in so, after watching as they battled a bit more between impatience and anxiety, perhaps just wanting to get it all _over_ with while also appreciating the time stall, the Joker turned and took to the iron steps that wound down to the base floor.

With a little skip to his languid stride, he inhaled deeply with _almost_ uncontained anticipation before looking to one of the subordinates he'd already managed to round up, the one with the twitchy smile and beady eyes and who held his rifle with as much enthusiasm as a junkie with a kilo of cocaine.

The Joker clapped his hands to get Twitchy's attention and when the man's frantic, little stare turned to him, he looked to door very directly and motioned a hand haphazardly towards it. "We have, uh, _guests_ to greet."

He watched as realization slowly came to the incompetent gun junkie, before said junkie nodded and turned to open the garage door, lips quivering with a smile he seemed so strangely keen on fighting.

The Joker just clicked his tongue as he watched, brows raising a little at Twitchy's antics, before his attention turned to the recruits as they filed in a pair at a time, expressions even more on edge as their eyes alternated between darting all about the room and flickering briefly to him. Oh they were trying so _hard_ not to stare, weren't they?

The Joker's hands lifted to the lapel of his coat as he straightened it, mockingly making himself appear more presentable to them.

 _And_ the silent count yielded…

' _19, 20, 21…'_ Twitchy slammed the garage door shut and it echoed throughout the space, momentarily distracting the Joker, who frowned briefly before returning his attention to the group and restarting, fingers discreetly numbering each of them off. ' _Ah...23_.' 23 _bright_ , young faces.

He waited until they all… _settled_ as best it seemed they could, while his eyes shifted between each of them in turn and they _all_ nervously avoided his gaze in one way or another.

Well, weren't _they_ a promising bunch? It really just remained to be seen whether _any_ of them could be put to real use.

"Mhm," he muttered under his breath, before deciding to take his scrutiny a step further. He took strides that were purposefully slow, watching as they visibly cringed in response to his approach.

 _Oh_ , it was all he could do not to just burst laughing! But, that would ruin the whole…effect. The tension, after all, was tasting very sweet.

He sighed and angled his head as he reached the far end of the line, narrowing his eyes and peering into the first of the 23 faces. The boy swallowed, and the Joker smirked a little before continuing down the line, staring them down one at a time.

 _No one_ really stood out among them, and the only one who came even remotely close was a lanky, junkie type who caught his eye when he yawned and then muttered ' _oh shit'_ under his breath as he widened his eyes and looked to him warily. The Joker fought the urge to click his tongue. Sleepy was going to need to be very _awake_ for what was coming.

Having finished his surveillance, the Joker pursed his lips again and took a few steps back, before stretching his arms out wide and greeting them all with a winning grin. "Welcome," he said flatly, completely offsetting his exuberant pose.

When they just stood silently and looked nervously at each other, The Joker rolled his eyes and lowered his arms, staring them down another moment before reaching up to motion with his fingers, "well, _follow_ me then. Seems you're all the, uh, cut it straight to the chase types." He shrugged and turned, leading the way and expecting them to follow. "Which is _fine_ by me." He animated with his hand as he spoke, "I'm not much of a morning person, you know, so the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can go back to the whole… _wake-up_ process. You know how it is, don't you, Sleepy?"

He glanced back over his shoulder, watching in amusement as the scrawny boy looked to him with widened eyes. "Uhm," he muttered, "…yes?"

"Ah!" The Joker's steps halted and he turned for a moment, awarding them all a mocking stare. "Finally. We have a talker _._ "

The boys eyes widened further, and the Joker's mouth twitched into a brief smirk at the reaction, before he turned and continued through the warehouse. So far, the yawning kid had been the only one to speak, but he expected to hear a lot more from them all when he revealed the day's activities to them.

Their dread and confusion was practically _hanging_ in the air. They were so pleasantly confused.

"Now," he said as they reached the next room. He turned to face them, hands continuing to animate his words as he spoke. "You've, uh, all come here today _prepared_ to work for me. But, like any other self-respecting employer, I figure we need a little…" he pursed his lips and searched the ceiling for a word. " _Trial_ period." He looked to them, watching as their confusion deepened. "An, uhm, _interview_ process, so to spea _k."_

He nodded in agreement with his own logic before stepping back. "Here's how it's going to go," he declared. "Since you'll have to know how to shoot, _I_ felt that a good place to start would be a _little_ …" his voice lowered, "target practice."

Oh, that foreboding was there now. He could see it on their faces. They were starting to get it now.

"So!" The Joker continued as a few of his henchman began leading out a dozen hostages, all of whom were gagged and blindfolded. He indicated the line-up, "who'd like to start?"

Then, as if it were only an afterthought, he delivered them a sudden, very sincere stare. "Oh, and anyone who _doesn't_ participate will no longer be considered for the position." He shrugged, "We're a little shorthanded in the target department, so it'll just be more of ah… _transfer_."

The Joker grinned and motioned for masked clowns behind him to start passing out the guns. "Don't take _too_ long deciding now, first man up gets first pick."

He stepped to the side and waited to see if any of them would step forward on their own. Had not one of them _ever_ shot anyone? What did they _think_ bounty hunting was? They'd brought this on themselves, really. They had. Brought it _right_ on. Never mind the fact that he'd _specifically_ set out to find some less experienced minds like theirs, them being easier to train and all.

A sudden motion drew his eyes, and he watched as someone finally stepped forward from the quivering line. Tilting his head, the Joker observed as the boy's initiative was answered with some mumbles and mutterings from the group behind him, one broad fellow even reaching for his jacket to stop him.

"Lucky," he whispered harshly, but was shrugged off an instant later.

The boy glanced over, gripping his gun and nodding to the Joker, who awarded him a very pointed look.

' _Oh, Sleepy's wide awake now,'_ The Joker thought as he settled back to watch how this was going to play out.

 **{.+.}**

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 ******* Wow, the Joker really is _such_ a challenge to write for. Hope I was able to do him some justice though! Basically, this story is going to be alternating between his and Lucy's perspectives, with possibly a few anecdotes from Len too :)


	3. Our Silences

**A/N:** _Keep me inspired, guys! I really appreciate all the follows this story has received. Please take the time to let me know what you think and keep the encouragement flowing! It really does wonders :)_

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter III: Our Silences

" _Words like violence  
_ _Break the silence  
_ _Come crashing in  
_ _Into my little world"_

 _-Lacuna Coil_

 **{.+.}**

The shot rang out loud and clear, echoing through the warehouse as a perfect, little silence immediately followed. But, the Joker only allowed for that silence to linger a tense moment – he didn't really like extensive silences - before lifting both hands and applauding Sleepy lazily.

"Bravo," he said in mock encouragement. At least there was _one_ salvageable recruit here, but only just barely.

He watched as the lanky boy lowered his gun, hands shaking ever so slightly, but mouth forced into a determined line. He could see that all he was really doing here was attempting to prove his…masculinity to the others, due to some…insecurity. Maybe it was his stature. A tough fella, but one that only _seemed_ so tough.

' _No matter_ ,' thought the Joker. ' _We'll get him there soon enough_. _Everyone starts off somewhere_.' If Sleepy couldn't pull some real guts, after all, he juuuust _wasn't_ going to make it in this line of work.

He continued to watch as Sleepy forced a smug look to the others, then looked to him, though still failing to make eye contact. The Joker just lifted a hand, directing him to stand with his other clowns, then motioned for the removal of Sleepy's dead target and indicating the next recruit.

The boy who'd grabbed Sleepy's' jacket reluctantly stepped forward as he looked shiftily about the room. The Joker sighed, tapping an impatient finger. He was really trying here, but he _hated_ time wasters. _What_? Did they think he had nothing better to do than stand around waiting on them to man up and fulfill his _simple_ request?

His eyes narrowed as he heard what he thought to be a whimper from the kid.

"Remember the rule!" Someone hissed from within the group.

The Joker glanced over in amusement. Well, it _was_ a good reminder. Maybe they weren't taking him seriously enough here. Then, with this thought, he found he was pretty much hoping this one would give him the opportunity to prove them wrong about that. Set the record straight.

He didn't seem like he'd be of very much use to him anyway. Not in the long run.

"Come on," the Joker muttered himself, fingers _itching_ for the whimpering kid to wimp out.

He rolled his eyes a little though, when the boy inhaled to prepare himself, aimed and fired a shot. He missed, and his eyes widened, before he hastily shot again, this time hitting one of the hostages.

The Joker just sighed and reluctantly motioned that he join Sleepy. The relief from the kid was almost hilarious. He really thought _this_ was difficult, huh?

By the time the third one stepped up, the Joker could feel his boredom setting in, and he was momentarily distracted as he flicked his knife open with an absent gaze.

"Uh…Joker sir? I've never, uhm…"

The Joker looked up so fast and so eagerly that the kid who'd called out started to visibly shake from the sudden attention.

"Hm?" The Joker only asked, closing his knife.

"I…I thought this was a bounty hunting job," he said breathlessly. "Not-" he glanced to the hostages. "I don't really have to… _kill_ anyone, do I?"

Tempted to chuckle, but deciding that it might only make the kid prematurely realize the gravity of the situation, the Joker instead tilted his head, fighting off even a grin. Well, at least things were _finally_ getting a little interesting.

"Hey, dude," that same voice hissed out from the group, "don't be an idiot. The _rule_."

The Joker sent a swift glare towards the owner of that voice and was immediately tempted to shoot him down right then and there, all previous amusement fading. He didn't want this kid to suddenly brave up, not when he was about to make an example out of him.

But, thankfully, it seemed they really _weren't_ taking him as seriously as they should, because the coward kid didn't respond, or even look so much as concerned, only continued looking to him hopefully.

Oh, it was _so_ difficult not to laugh.

"Aww," The Joker tilted his head, clucking his tongue and crossing his arms. "First time, huh? You, uh, didn't realize what you were getting into here, hm?" He kept his tone gentle, luring him into responding the way he wanted.

The boy nodded, "y-yeah. I'm sorry, I just don't think I can…do it."

"Oh, I understand," The Joker nodded vigorously. "I really do." He pushed himself away from the stack of crates he'd been leaning against and approached the kid, who seemed to relax a little, though continued to stare at him cautiously as he crept closer.

"So…I _don't_ have to do it?"

"No, no, no. Consider yourself… removed from the job," the Joker said as he stopped and held out his hand for the gun.

He could feel the tense atmosphere now, as all the boys in the group watched him warily. They were wondering if he really _wasn't_ going to follow through on his threat, probably hoping for it.

But, the Joker considered himself a man of his word. He _always_ followed through.

And so, when the kid placed the gun into his hand, he offered a 'pitying' smile and held up a hand, "hold still for a second, would yuh?" He glanced over, "who's next?"

The kid didn't move, only started to look and more and more relieved. And, when no one else stepped forward to claim the weapon, the Joker rolled his eyes. "Making me do all the work, are we?" He cast a swift glance across the lineup, before pointing towards the rule Nazi. " _You_ , you're up." He enthusiastically motioned him forward with his hand.

Mr. Rules sighed audibly, looking as if he might say something against it, before nodding and stepping forward, reaching for the gun. He certainly looked significantly calmer, but there was a hint of confusion there too.

"Now," The Joker said as he placed a hand on Ruler's shoulder and pointed towards the coward. The boy flinched a little at how close he'd gotten, but the Joker ignored it, entirely focused on the task at hand. "Bright boy there has just been, uh, _transferred_." He gave his shoulder a firm slap. "You know what to do, huh? I mean, you've been _so_ good about reminding everyone of the rules. Let's see you…enforce 'em!"

He chuckled and saw the coward stiffen.

The kid looked anxiously to the gunman and then back to the Joker. "I thought you understood?"

"Oh, I do," The Joker replied as he ventured back to the stack of crates. "But, uh," He held up his hands in his own defense, "take it up with the, uh, rule enforcer there." He pointed to the boy in question.

The coward immediately looked to the recruit with the gun, shaking his head. "D-don-"

But the gunner proved himself to be _another_ helpful addition to the team as he shot through the coward without any further hesitation.

The Joker just looked to the fallen body as the shocked look there froze into place. _Good_ , it seemed they were getting it now. He released another chuckle and glanced back to see the reaction from each Sleepy and his whimpery friend.

They both had their eyes locked on the bleeding corpse of the recruit.

…

Lucy sighed as she slipped the 'Ace Note' logo t-shirt over her head and then reached down to tie the laces on her skid resistant shoes. As she stood, she glanced to the two paintings that had long since dried. Coming back to them with a fresh set of eyes hadn't helped anything. If anything it had only served to intensify whatever was wrong with them.

But, she couldn't really focus on that anymore. What she needed to do was concentrate on pulling through the next five hours at work. Her shift was due to start at 5:00 and her minutes of freedom were steadily counting down.

And, more importantly than all of that…Len _still_ hadn't returned, and the worry was _really_ getting to her. She'd already imagined all of the horrible things that could have gone wrong, and she'd indulged the worry so much that she wondered how it could still _so_ severely persist.

It was frustrating, and she was growing progressively angrier with him for getting himself into this whole ridiculous situation.

With a huff, she walked out into the kitchen, grabbed her wallet and house keys, then stepped out into the chilly evening as she pulled a jacket on. She turned to lock up and then moved to descend the steps, before pausing as she spotted her brother trudging up with a frown.

Her mouth set in a hard line and she crossed her arms. He was totally ignoring her and, when she didn't move to let him pass, he sighed heavily.

"Where have _you_ been?" She asked, anger seeping into her voice.

"Lucy," he said through his teeth, before finally looking up at her, eyes narrowed. "I really don't need this right now. Move out of the way."

She ignored what he said and continued with the line of questioning. "Did you meet with your new _employer_?"

He winced a little, sending a wave of concern through the anger and increasing her worry. "Len?" She tilted her head to see his face better. She scanned him for any injuries and then returned her eyes to his with open concern, brows furrowing. "Did something happen? Are you okay?"

"Goddammit," he said under his breath before his voice rose, "I'm _fine_. I'm tired, it's been a long day."

She shook her head, "you're lying."

He exhaled again, face reddening, before reaching up and shoving his way past her. She grabbed his arm and he tried to pull himself free, but she only gripped him harder, face stern.

"I've been worried _sick_ about you _all_ day! Don't you do this. And I _don't_ just mean shutting me out. You need to back out of this job."

He rolled his eyes and looked to her irately, "don't even act like you know what you're talking about. I don't need your judgement _or_ your accusations." He ripped his arm swiftly from her hold and straightened his jacket before motioning with a hand, "go to work."

She bit her lip as she lowered her eyes, before sighing heavily. He was right. She would be late if this argument continued, and she _really_ didn't want to be yelled at for being tardy again.

However, their conversation was _f_ ar from being over, and so Lucy looked up again, brow raised. "And I'll see you tonight? You'll come and walk me home?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Whatever," he waved her off as he turned his key in the lock and then slammed the door as he disappeared inside.

Lucy felt the burning in her eyes, but fought it off with a shake of her head as she turned to continue her descent. The rage and worry were boiling in her chest, leaving her to wonder how in the hell she was going to make it through her shift.

Her only source of comfort was the fact that Len was finally back, he was safe, and that she going to try her damn hardest to bring him to his senses. He _couldn't_ work for the Joker. She was more convinced of that now than ever. She couldn't ignore the dread she felt each time she thought of it and now, seeing him so…put out, it served to strengthen her confidence in that instinctual feeling.

Wrapping her jacket tighter around herself, Lucy shook her hair out of her face and smiled humorlessly. It just _figured_ that she'd be walking upwind on top of everything else, its harshness mercilessly whipping at her skin and making her teeth chatter.

And so, fifteen minutes later, she walked into the bar red-faced and still emotionally tense. When her boss caught sight of her, he gruffly called her over.

"Hurry up and get started," he said. "We're understaffed and falling behind."

Lucy nodded and removed her jacket, stowing it under the bar counter and clocking in. She hated days like these, they were so disorganized and upsettingly overwhelming.

Sweeping her eyes across the room, she tried to get a feel for the patrons there and the overall vibe of what she was getting herself into, before collecting herself as best she could and grabbing a notepad as she prepared to venture out towards one of the new tables.

She greeted the guests, took their drink order and turned to prepare it all. This motion was repeated at least a dozen times, and she tried desperately to keep her mind occupied on only work, but it continued to stubbornly stray to Len.

Oh, he was going to get _such_ an earful.

Glancing up, she furrowed her brows and then swiftly looked away and back to her current task. An unnerving feeling suddenly swept through her as an entirely different concern joined her chorus of worries.

She'd just noticed that a group of middle-aged men were seated in a corner booth and had been staring her way. Now that she thought about it, they'd been seated there since her arrival, sipping on drinks and just…lingering there.

Swallowing uncomfortably, she risked another glance, and saw to her dismay that they were _still_ gazing at her.

It wasn't that she _hadn't_ received these stare-downs from creeps in the past, but each time it would fill her with a very severe discomfort. It wasn't something she'd ever just...get used to, despite her boss' opinion to the contrary. Lucy tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear and tried her best to ignore their stares, while also trying to diminish the feeling of duress they inflicted.

She just had to get through another hour of this.

To her relief, they rose twenty minutes before closing time, and she watched them go as the tension slowly eased with their departure.

' _Good riddance_ ,' she thought, before looking through the somewhat dingy windows and to the city lights that were gleaming in from beyond them. _'I **really** need to hurry up and get out of this neighborhood.'_

Unfortunately though, she still had a little while to go before she'd be able to do that.

Not to mention…if Len kept up his new _employment_ , she wondered if she _could_ really just leave him here. There were so many motivations to fuel her argument against his doing this whole foolish thing, and _this_ was simply another.

Going through the motions of closing the bar, Lucy washed glasses, placed chairs on tables and cashed out, before moving to sit on her favorite stool to wait for Len's arrival.

"Don't forget to lock this place up," her boss said as soon as he was finished in the office and moved to turn off the lights.

Lucy nodded, not really bothering to remind him that she hadn't _ever_ forgotten to do that.

And so, once he was gone, she simply resigned herself to wait. Len was usually at least ten minutes late. However, she didn't mind the interval of silence, the quiet left in the wake of so much activity. She was now at least free to mull over all the ways in which she might convince her brother to give up his latest venture. She needed to both mentally and emotionally prepare herself, though she questioned how much good that would even do.

The silence wore on, the waiting continued and, when Lucy looked to her phone and saw that it had already been well over thirty minutes, she decided to call the boy.

Lifting the phone to her ear, she tapped her finger and waited, before rolling her eyes when he didn't answer.

"Hey, it's me. Where are you?" She asked when it went to voicemail. "I'm still waiting."

She sent a text along the similar lines and then lowered her phone to wait on a response.

When she didn't receive one after several more minutes, she shook her head and then hopped down from the stool, slipping her jacket on and marching towards the door.

It didn't seem like he was going to show.

Was he _really_ so angry with her that he couldn't walk her home?

Her own temper flared and she slammed the door closed and locked it with a sharp twist before turning and walking in long strides through the dark, empty street.

It had gotten a lot colder and Lucy felt utterly miserable, angry, worried and extremely tired. All she wanted at this point was to give Len a nice, well-earned slap.

Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed the sound of footsteps behind her, but when she lifted her eyes from where they'd been fixed at her feet, she saw shadows along the rundown building beside her. Steps slowing, she furrowed her brows and glanced back.

Only to have her heart leap at the sight as her stomach plummeted and she withheld a gasp.

Facing forward, her steps automatically hastened. It was the group of men from earlier, prowling their way after her, increasing their own pace to match hers.

Her overactive mind summoned a number of horrible reasons for their presence, and she felt a sudden desperation seep its way through her body. She immediately recognized the danger of the situation and felt traces of adrenaline shooting through her system. What was she going to do? How was she supposed to handle this? Was this _really_ happening?

' _Yes, of course it is'_ , she reasoned as she dove further and further into her anxiety; into raw fear and confusion.

It seemed her luck had just run out.

The odds…the odds were insane. The _one_ day Len decided not to walk her home is the one day a gang of potential rapists, the very thing shed' been most concerned about, decided to take notice and trail her.

"God," she whispered, eyes watering with nervousness, heart hammering violently and body beginning to shake.

She wanted to run, but thought it might make the situation worse. The sound of a few chuckles reached her and she looked in dread to the side street she'd have to venture down to get home. Several dark alleys stood along it, and she hesitated, biting her lip as she debated what to do next.

"Hey!" One of them called. "Why the hurry?"

They laughed again, and Lucy felt her anxiety surge, as well as her instinct to run.

Screw it, maybe her stamina could hold out against theirs. It was better than doing nothing. And so, without hesitating another moment, Lucy broke out into a full on run.

Glancing back, she saw they'd started chasing her too and also, to her dismay, that they were starting to gain ground.

Lucy panicked, eyes wide, trying to push herself to move faster. She turned a corner and then another, looking for any open establishments, and hoping with everything inside of her that she'd run into another person or that a car would conveniently pass along the street.

' _Please_ ,' she thought.

One of them reached her then and grasped her jacket, attempting to pull her back, but she hastily maneuvered her arms out of her sleeves, not much caring that it was her favorite and that she'd be leaving it behind. She scrambled out of their way and abruptly turned into another alley, looking for a place to hide or something.

They were right behind her, and she felt her legs burning from the strain of running as her breath also started giving out. Her ribs were killing her and she felt that she might just collapse at any moment.

With a final effort, she gripped the wall and spun around another corner, almost tripping, but catching herself and then looking up and feeling a relieved smile take her face.

There was someone standing there at the end of the alleyway, illuminated by the faint glow of light from the other side. It appeared to be a man, tall and slender, and hopefully one who'd be willing to help. He was standing over something, but Lucy didn't really take the time to figure out what it was.

She rushed towards him, wincing with the effort it took as she heard the men turn the corner behind her, continuing their chase.

"Please!" She said breathlessly, hoping to catch the stranger's attention. But he didn't seem to hear her and so she reached for the sleeve of his coat as she came to a rather unceremonious halt behind him. Faintly, she heard the steps behind her come to a stop as well.

"Can you help me please?!" She voiced frantically.

As soon as she grabbed him, it was like waking someone up from their sleep. He was visibly startled by the intrusion, looking up from the ground and turning his head swiftly to look down at her.

Lucy immediately noticed several things. First, that what this man was standing over was actually a…person. A… _body_ with a…carved _smile_. The second thing was the very prominent make-up painted over his face, his trademark 'grin' instilling a new wave of dread.

And last, but not least, that he was holding a knife securely in his hand, tipped menacingly in red.

"Oh, my God…" she breathed, still panting heavily as her heart rate impossibly increased. She abruptly removed her hold on his coat as her eyes widened and she took a single step back, the group behind her _almost_ forgotten.

But, the reality of the situation greeted her soon enough. She was caught between _them_ and the _Joker_ , and she really didn't know which was worse.

* * *

 **A/N:** _And they meet ;) Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it seemed like a good lead-in! Next chapter will have their first interaction ;)_


	4. A Muse's Show

**A/N:** _Wow! The encouragement from that latest chapter was incredible ;) Thank you all so much! A lot of you are feeling pretty sympathetic towards both Len and Lucy's series of misfortunes, but their lives really are going to start shifting more drastically from this point on. The Joker has that effect *shrugs* ;) Anyway though, be sure and let me know what you think of this newest update! I'll be looking forward to hearing from you ;)_

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter IV: A Muse's Show

" _You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece  
And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink  
And now I'm covered in the colors  
Pulled apart at the seams"_

 _-Halsey_

 **{.+.}**

There was one tense moment following Lucy's realization of her predicament. Any further reaction was escaping her, and she recognized that all she could do was simply wait for whatever was coming, though the feeling of dread was increasing.

She couldn't quite determine if it was more like falling into a nightmare, or if she had actually been abruptly awoken, reality finally striking. _Here_ was the personification of all of her worries regarding her brother, looming over her and putting those malicious card-faced jesters entirely to shame.

He eyed her expressionlessly once the startle of her intrusion had worn off, giving the arm of his jacket a little shake where she'd grabbed him, straightening it out. Then, almost lazily, his eyes shifted to the group of men who had entered the alley after her, their expressions concerned and _very_ uncertain as they took to silently staring with wide eyes.

The Joker hid a smile. Oh, he just _loved_ when mundane things suddenly became interesting. It was very obvious what was going on here, but he decided to feign ignorance. Besides, it wasn't every day a pretty, little damsel in _distress_ came running to _him_. He began to sift through a few different ways to play the situation out, weighing each one to see which would prove most _entertaining_.

He began to slowly forget the body behind him, it only being one of his henchman. He'd gotten a little too sassy, complaining about how unreliable the new recruits were and the Joker just _couldn't_ allow such behavior to slide, not after having his recruiting skills so verbally doubted. So, he'd lured him out on a 'mission' only to carve him up once they'd reached a good place for leaving bodies to rot. It was done out of boredom, mostly, but now he was feeling a little appreciative of the back talker for positioning him in the path of even _further_ amusement.

Then, finally, the heavy silence was broken as one of the men spoke up, voice shaking a little. "Sorry, w-we aren't looking for any trouble. We just want the girl."

"Oh, _her_?" The Joker responded immediately, before his eyes again flickered, towards Lucy, watching as she shrank back another step. She was a flighty creature, wasn't she? And… _quiet_. She wasn't even bothering to beg.

She obviously knew who he was, that was obvious, but there was something _else_ …had he ever had a run-in with her? He couldn't remember, but his memory of insignificant things wasn't much to go on. The way she was looking at him though, it seemed more… _intense_ than the average first encounter.

"Hm…" He mumbled as he silently observed her. Then, his eyes slowly shifted back and forth between her and the men, his thoughts sifting rapidly.

Lucy tried to stay calm, but found she didn't really have much control over her reactions at all. Her heart wouldn't slow, her eyes wouldn't narrow, and her breaths wouldn't ease. The tension she felt had her both somehow on edge and completely dazed at the same time. Her mind didn't seem entirely capable of catching up to process all of this.

"Well," The Joker said after another moment, "you fellas don't mind if I have a quick word with her first, do you?"

He briefly saw them look to one another in confusion but didn't wait for a response, knowing they wouldn't oppose him. They'd stay _exactly_ where he wanted them to stay. So, he instead turned and approached Lucy.

Lucy first noted that he was still holding his knife, and her gaze returned to his warily as he stepped closer, stopping only after his shadow overcame her, his face bending to peer into hers. She swallowed and her mouth parted, body frozen and eyes trapped.

' _What's going to happen to me?'_ She vaguely wondered. _'What's he going to do?'_ She had no idea at all what to expect.

He just stared wordlessly for several moments, increasing her edgy feeling. The paint on his face was a horrifying sight, especially in the dim lighting, the contrasts and shadows playing on his skin. In the back of her mind, the artistic part of her studied the actual lack of technique used to apply the paint. It was so haphazard, so tactless and careless. So… _reckless_.

The Joker concealed the knife behind his back and let the little girl continue in her obvious feelings of foreboding, carrying out the silence, leaving her to _wonder_. Her big, bright eyes roamed his face, he was used to _that_ , but he also found it just a little interesting that she hadn't looked away yet. He usually had to _tell_ people to keep their eyes on him. He didn't want to miss out on all those _precious_ , fleeting emotions they conveyed. He wanted to savor it _allll_. And she was presenting her emotions very vividly. He saw fear from her, oh they were all _always_ afraid, but he also saw an… _analyzing_ spark. What was she analyzing?

There were _always_ exceptions to the typical reactions, of course, so he concluded that she was simply one of them.

He tapped his knife against his coat as he held it loosely, reexamining his choices. Then, after an instant, his mind was made up, and he plundered completely into the winning direction of his thoughts. He spoke up then to her, making sure to keep his voice low, conspiratorial, as his looked pointedly to the men who were still standing uncertainly.

"O _kay_ , Listen up, _little_ one," he said, before redirecting his eyes to her. "I've given it a little thought and I've, uhm, decided to help you out." He nodded enthusiastically, "I mean, suuuure, _why_ not? What kind of a, uh," his free hand wound its way in a circle as he searched for the appropriate wording. " _Person_ would I be if I just left you to fend for yourself, huh? You _did_ come running to _me_."

The way he spoke was…interesting. Drawn out words and pauses and emphasis in random placements. There wasn't any semblance of _reason_ to it. Lucy's brows furrowed only briefly as she listened, confusion joining her awareness. However, it was alleviated a little by what he said next.

"On one condition," he held up a finger, voice dropping even lower, head bending a little closer.

An inexplicable, _sickening_ dread suddenly presented itself to her, her sensitivity to certain…vibes, sending off all sorts of warning signals. Lucy looked nervously to the waiting men, before returning her attention to the Joker and his dark, 'patient' gaze.

Oh, that gaze was so unnervingly fierce. Entirely intimidating, all on its own. It was also expectant, and she recognized that he was waiting for her to respond in some way.

She answered on an uncertain exhale, voice barely a whisper. "What is it?"

Lucy saw the briefest of smiles take his face then, widening the line of his scars, stretching that paint, making it somehow…come _alive_.

He leaned even closer, prompting her to shrink back in response. Then, he joined her in whispering, foregoing his previous tone entirely. "You have to _watch_."

The vibe shifted, fell deeper. She felt increasingly as if she were standing on the edge of something, and she searched his face for what it was.

He didn't leave her wondering for long. In the next moment, he lifted his arm, still concealed from the view of the men, but successfully drawing her eyes to the hand that held the knife as he ran the blade teasingly down the length of her hair. Then he lifted it again and tapped the side of her cheek playfully, the cool steel instigating a nervous shiver from her.

"No closing your eyes now," he warned, voice again rising.

Lucy felt a wave of panic, jumping to an immediate suspicion of where this was leading. "No," she mouthed soundlessly. She summoned a brief break in her whisper, though her voice was still low and weak. "Wait, please-"

But the Joker was already turning away from her, leaving her to stare after him helplessly, eyes following his movements as he stalked towards the men.

"So," he said as he stopped before them. "You want the girl, hm?"

They looked between each other, as seemed so… _habitual_ of them, before the spokesperson from earlier nodded. "Like I said, we don't want any trouble."

"Welllll," The Joker mused with a tilt of his head. "Isn't _that_ the funny thing about trouble? Doesn't it _always_ seem to come when you don't want it?"

The man's mouth opened and closed a moment, before the Joker swiftly moved, reaching into his coat and bringing out a 9mm AR pistol. He didn't even miss a beat, there was hardly any reaction received from them before he fired, with barely an aim for three of the four, leaving only the spokesperson to stare in shock as his three companions were dropped.

They were alive, moaning and clutching at various wound points, the Joker eying them a moment with pursed lips. Headshots would've been way too quick, and he wanted to give the little girl behind him a _real_ show. So, he, ever the performer, moved with the orchestra of their pained groaning, leaping and landing fluidly before the fourth guy, knife in hand as his gun clattered against the concrete at his feet.

He held the blade to the inside of the thug's mouth, eyes downcast and expressionless, completely contrasting the very lively expression on his face.

"W-We just wanted the-" he mumbled, despite the blade pressing ever more fully against his cheek.

"I know, I know," The Joker all but rolled his eyes. "You want the girrrl." He then sighed, cradling the back of the spokeperson's head, reveling in the terror he was being presented with. "But, uh…" he leaned in, eyes leveling with the fearful gaze of his victim. "We don't always get what we want, _do_ we?"

Then, without another word, he delivered a fatal slice, ripping the blade through the man's face, pushing deep, pulling smoothly and then watching as he collapsed at his feet.

From behind him, Lucy felt a jolt as her body jumped slightly in response. She had hardly been able to move, eyes still wide, mouth parted, and unable to look away. As with most everything else, despite the absolute horror, the absolute _disgust_ she felt with scenes like this, it held her attention, and she used it to fuel her ambitions. It pulled her mind from its frozen state, and her previous worries returned in full.

Len needed to get _out_. But…how could he? Was it already too late?

The Joker was insane, the rumors about him were so far _off_ the mark. She wished she hadn't been proven right, but now…the truth was unavoidable. Everything she'd feared was forming into reality. Her brother's involvement was going to get him killed.

She was returned to the present then as she watched the Joker seem to almost dance through the tangle of bodies, sifting his focus between each of the three who were still living. Her heart thudded and chills spread across her skin as he bent to each of them in turn and brought the knife to their faces, their screams short-lived and replaced by the Joker's faint cackling.

The dark merriment he was feeling from this activity was practically radiating from him, and Lucy instinctively inched back. She was suddenly filled with a deep, striking sympathy. Despite what those men were, what they'd tried to do…watching them in pain like this, watching them die…it was almost unbearable. They'd lived horrible lives, she was sure, but it didn't make it any easier to see how horribly those lives were _now_ being forced way from them.

Her heart ached with it, with watching it all happen, and not being able to do a thing about it.

Her thoughts shifted then, her sympathy still very present, but her worries also surfacing. Should she try running? Would he be satisfied with this, or would he turn the knife on her next?

Then, as if sensing her thoughts, he stood and turned as he wiped his knife absently against his coat to 'clean' it, before giving it a twirl and then flicking it closed as he returned it to the folds of his coat. He looked to her and sighed as her body again became unresponsive.

Her mind was screaming for her to run, but instinct was commanding that she stay still, so still she remained, even as he approached.

Hardly believing what had just taken place, Lucy's eyes briefly lowered to the corpses behind him, at their unmoving forms in the dark, and she felt her eyes water with the shock of witnessing their deaths, the sympathy increasing.

"Good girl," she heard a purr as the Joker stopped beside her, shadow looming over her again.

Blinking her eyes dry and gathering the will to look up at him, Lucy's gaze met his, though she couldn't manage anything by way of a response. It was very difficult to keep to her senses and wits within his presence like this.

The Joker took only the briefest moment to analyze her state. She was shocked, as expected, but she also didn't look _too_ shaken from it. Which, he supposed, was understandable. Living in the Narrows was no walk in the park. On _that_ note, however, he called her intelligence into serious question. She was no doubt aware of the dangers presented in walking alone in the dark, and yet… _here_ she was. It was almost laughable. What a stupid, little thing. At least she had the sense not to _run_.

Licking his lips, he tilted his head at her. "You look…surprised." Then, without pausing, his eyes lowered and he wiped a bloody glove on his pants. "Mmm… _well_ , you shouldn't be."

Lucy just continued to watch him silently, unable to look away from _him_ any more than she had been able to look away from his massacre of the rapists. However, even if she could, she didn't know if she'd want to. It was better to see what might be coming, better to at least stand a chance of reading whatever signs might be offered. Any warnings or threats. Besides, it was slowly continuing to strengthen her ability to stand her ground.

Her eyes finally succeeded in narrowing just slightly as her lips closed, her breathing and heart still rapid, but her expression more composed.

It was fueling her, and she would continue to let it.

The Joker straightened, and returned his eyes to her, lips smacking a little as he closed them and eyed her shift in expression. She suddenly _didn't_ look so shocked. She wasn't simply hiding it either, no, no…she was _overcoming_ it, and all without appearing angry or resentful. It was…interesting.

But, he let that train of thought slide into the abyss of obscurity his mind often cast these passing observations to, and he leaned in close to her, watching as she stiffened. There, _that_ was more like it. His voice lowered, and he allowed his breath to travel across her ear, "careful what you wish for, _sweet_ hearrrrt. When you ask a devil for help, he just might…" he paused for dramatic effect, and then felt a smirk form. " _Deliver_."

Leaning away to observe her expression, he watched as she grew more tense. Oh no, he wasn't finished quite yet. "And _now_ ," he continued. "Those men?" He indicated them with a hand, but neither he _or_ her glanced over. "They're _dead_ because of you!"

A mocking expression of concern took his face, before he suddenly reached out and gave her shoulder a firm, somewhat unceremonious pat. He felt her stiffen beneath him as he said, "It's, uh, _sure_ been fun, kid!" Then he lowered his hand and shifted, preparing to step past her. "Feel free to ask for another favor _any_ time." He laughed and leaned forward again, "Who knew I'd, ahh… _take_ so well to the whole hero business, hm? Didn't even know I had it in me. Guess we learn something new everyday, don't we?"

Lucy held his gaze in continued silence, not bothering to summon an answer to any of that. He wasn't expecting one, and she certainly didn't feel as if she'd have the ability to provide one anyway. Nothing he was saying was even true. He was just taunting, _gloating_. His eyes were still so…inanimate, but he looked practically gleeful otherwise.

The Joker lifted a hand in a half-wave and then, after announcing a quick, "ta-ta," swept past and strolled down the lane, not even pausing as he stepped over the first body he'd discarded there.

Watching him disappear before lowering her eyes, Lucy expressionlessly stared a moment at the vacant spot he'd left, the image of him burning in her mind. However, her thoughts hastily caught up with her, the sequence of events beginning their replay, unlocking her emotions and responses.

She released a breath and lifted a hand to clamp over her mouth, fearing she might scream or sob or something. She wanted to avoid anything that might attract his attention. Her eyes closed tightly, and she breathed in and out rapidly, her knees shaking as everything she'd just suppressed slammed right into her.

The tension, the screams, his face, his voice… _everything_ he'd said.

Wondering why he'd done it seemed pointless. He'd twisted helping her into a warped _activity_ , and he probably found satisfaction in the fact that he'd left her in the aftermath of it all. That was why she was alive, the only reason she was still standing here.

It had been a very real brush with death, and _even_ before that…a brush with something else entirely.

Not able to stand any longer, she lowered herself to the concrete, letting her hand fall as she bowed her head, trying desperately to hold back tears. There was too much…too much to process.

Her eyes remained closed and the replays continued. Again and again and _again_. His face, their screams, their deaths, his laughter. It all shot through her, but she worked on pulling herself together despite all of it.

Because there was only _one_ thing she needed to focus on right now. Len.

He was working for that monster. She needed to tell him exactly how dangerous he was. He'd just taken down four, very powerful looking thugs, and all without any measure of strain.

Len didn't know what he was dealing with here.

Sucking in a breath, resolving herself, Lucy took another moment before opening her eyes slowly, staring unseeingly, and then standing weakly, using the wall for support. Then she slowly made her way forward, past the bodies, her eyes drifting to them as she strode by.

Their faces were bloody and contorted, and she flinched a little at the sight. However, her eyes remained on them until she'd cleared the area and wrapped her arms around her torso as she maneuvered the quiet street to her apartment.

Her senses were returning, and with it the realization that she was immensely cold. Her body trembled, but she was glad for it. It was serving to create some clarity, overcoming the shock.

Maybe now…he'd listen. Maybe now he'd come with her when she decided to leave. They could put their money together and get out sooner.

Her teeth chattered, and she lowered her head, trying to block the wind. With her resolve, came something else. It slowly trickled through, infiltrating her thoughts, and she welcomed it as a temporary reprieve to what she'd just had to witness.

The Joker's face. Or, more specifically, his face _paint_.

She hadn't realized it when he was standing before her, couldn't realize it until she was fully collected, but _now_ that she was…she suddenly comprehended just why it had caught her attention the way it had.

That reckless technique was…so perfect in the way it was imperfect. It returned her to the dissatisfaction she had with her paintings of his likeness on that calling card. She'd paid so much attention to detail and precision, but had entirely overlooked that something like that might be much better portrayed through something more abstract.

The very nature of _his_ application was…chaotic. It spoke for itself.

And, despite all of her worries and horror at the expense of her encounter with him, she couldn't wait to transfer the new image he'd provided onto paper –to recapture the chaotic quality of it. Her inspiration had been rekindled, her muse solidified.

She could turn him into a masterpiece, and maybe… _hopefully_ , get him out of her head. Maybe even the faces of those men he'd killed.

Shaking a little at the return of that thought, Lucy tried to focus on her resolve instead, though the pending indulgence in everything that happened lingered. It would catch up with her soon, and she wanted to get the discussion with her brother out of the way before it did.

By the time she reached her apartment, she was all but restored, her anger cooled, and her resolve all the more hardened because of it. She wasn't going to let up, no matter _what_ Len said. When she reached the steps, she took to them determinedly, eyes set on the door. However, she turned the corner and jumped back, briefly startled, before relaxing as she saw that it was only her brother, calmly smoking a cigarette.

He glanced over and seemed to take in her appearance with a furrow of his brows. "Where've you been?"

And all at once, a trace of her anger returned as she was reminded just _why_ any of this had happened tonight.

"You didn't come to get me," she said coolly.

He shrugged.

Lucy's mouth parted at his indifference. She could've been raped, or worse, _dead,_ carved up right along with all of the other Joker victims. What would Len have done then? That would've all been on _him_.

The rational side of her mind spoke that he really had no way of knowing how it would go, but her feelings had already flared at the betrayal, overpowering her rationality.

So, she strode forward, reached down and snatched up his cigarette. She caught the look of wide-eyed shock from him, before lifting the cigarette to her lips, closing her eyes, and pulling in a deep drag of the tobacco. It filled her lungs, _burned_ there, and then she released it, feeling some of the tension subside.

When she opened her eyes and looked to him, mouth closing firmly, he was glaring.

"We need to talk," she said, voice leaving no room for argument.

But, she wasn't foolish enough to think that he _wouldn't_ argue. Things were going to escalate, she could discern that much, and _especially_ since she never did seem able to entirely control her emotions.

Maybe she'd be getting that slap in on him, after all. He certainly deserved it.


	5. Strength and Corrosion

**A/N:** I apologize for the infrequent updates, but I promise I'm working on this whenever I get the chance ;) I love this idea and definitely want to see it through to the end! As always, I really appreciate the feedback. Keep it going, guys. It helps ;) This chapter mostly solidifies where Lucy and her brother stand, while also offering a closer look into the mind of the Joker.

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter V: Strength and Corrosion

" _And these scars wouldn't be so hidden  
If you would just look me in the eye  
But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything  
kills inside"_

 _-Plumb_

 **{.+.}**

"What? What _is_ it, Lucy?" Len demanded, arms crossed, expression furious. "What the _hell_ do you wanna talk about?"

After the hit of tobacco, Lucy had proceeded to flick the cigarette off the stairs, infuriating her brother. But, she simply stormed past him to head inside for the impending argument. She wasn't planning to freeze to death before it was over, after all.

He followed after her, continuing to protest about the damn cigarette the entire way. She only shook her head and rolled her eyes, turning to face him with a glare as he slammed the door.

There were _far_ more important things to concern himself over than some stupid cigarette. Images of the Joker started to return, of the bodies he'd left, of Len possibly ending up like one of them, and Lucy winced. However, she let that image empower her.

"What'd you think?" She answered only, voice breaking only slightly as she started to raise it. "Len, I am not kidding, you _need_ to get out."

"Get out of what?" He asked dumbly.

Her eyes rolled again, and she looked to him silently a moment, before trying to gain some control of herself and responding as levelly as she could. "Stop working for the Joker."

"You're being ridiculous," he protested. He shook his head and began to pace, as he always did when he was frustrated. When he finally stopped to look at her again, he held out his hands defensively. "Why aren't you _ever_ happy?! You tell me to stop selling drugs, so I quit and take on _this_ job. But no, no you aren't happy with that either!"

"Don't even pretend like you're doing _any_ of this to make me happy," Lucy seethed.

"Have to look out for you somehow."

"Right," she scoffed and looked away from him, angry tears starting to burn at her eyes. However, she fought them off determinedly. When she was finally able to look at him again, her expression turned pleading. "Len…how is putting yourself in danger like this looking out for me?"

"What makes you think I'm in danger, huh?" He asked, glaring again and crossing his arms. "You're just assuming things. I told you this job was _safe_."

"But it isn't."

"You don't know that."

"Actually," she replied, stepping forward, narrowing her eyes. "I do." Her expression shifted, her gaze lowering to the floor, unseeing, as her mind automatically recalled what had just happened. "I saw him."

"What? Saw _who_?"

"The…Joker," she said, voice lowering. "I…ran into him."

"When?"

There was an edge to Len's voice then, and Lucy looked up to see that his fury was momentarily placed with… _fear_? It suddenly gave her hope.

"In the alley," she responded simply. "On my way back from work. There were…these men." Voice drifting, she was greeted with the memory of how those men had looked when she'd last seen them; contorted faces, completely lifeless.

Inhaling deeply, she continued. "They were coming after me, and…I ran. I ran until I saw someone and, when I asked for help, he…turned around and…" She shook her head. "It was the Joker. And, he…he killed them."

Len's brows furrowed, "the Joker? The _Joker_ killed those men?" His face shifted into one of skepticism. "Are you saying he _saved_ you?"

"No, not exactly. He seemed like he was…enjoying it."

There was a brief silence, and Len just stared at her while she collected her thoughts. After another moment though, her voice took on that pleading edge again. "But, that isn't the point! The point is…from what I saw tonight, he's very dangerous. He's a complete _psychopath_ , Len. You _have_ to get out of there!"

Her eyes were wide and desperate, and her breath was baited as she hoped with everything inside of her that he would just _listen_ for once.

However, he slowly shook his head and his glare returned. "How stupid _are_ you? You really think that's how this works?"

"What'd you mean?" She snapped, offended and feeling her anger returning.

"Do you know what happens to people who try and run?"

"Len-" she started.

"Do you remember what happened to dad, hm? Do you remember what they did to that _coward_?!"

His voice was rising, and Lucy shook her head and looked away, feeling her tears trying to force their way through again. She hated when he started talking about their father. Hated the way he viewed him.

"Yeah, he tried to run and he was killed for it. I'm nothing like that. I _won't_ be anything like that. No way. I'm no coward."

"It wasn't cowardly," her voice shook and she still couldn't look at him. "There was nothing wrong with what he did. He wanted to get away from all of this!"

"He couldn't take it," Len replied, voice filled with scorn. "But, _I_ ," Lucy looked up and watched as he pointed towards his own chest. "I _can_."

"This is different," she tried, voice finally regaining some strength. "The Joker…he isn't _normal_."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"If we don't get out now, while there's still time, while we can still get away…he'll _kill_ you."

"He'll kill me if I run!"

"You don't kno-"

"No," he cut her off, before pointing at her accusingly, " _you_ don't know he'll kill me if I stay. You're just being paranoid again. That's all you ever do."

"What?"

"Worry," he sneered.

"Yes!" She felt her chest burning with frustration. "I worry. I _worry_ about you! Why shouldn't I? What kind of person would I be if I didn't? Would you prefer if I _didn't_ care what happens to you?!"

"Maybe if it meant you'd finally get off my case," Len shrugged.

Lucy exhaled loudly and shook her head for what felt like the hundredth time. "Please, Len. _Please_. Let's both get out of here. Let's put our money together and get the hell out of this place."

Len just rolled his eyes and strode past her and into the kitchen, heading towards the fridge. She followed him with her eyes and waited until he turned around, can of beer in his hand.

"Look," he said as he popped open the lid. "Do whatever you want. I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm not leaving you here," she said firmly. "And if you really want what's best for me, you'll get me out of here. Besides, I know you're afraid of him too. I can see it. It isn't always cowardly to act on fear. It's a natural _warning_."

"Says you, the worrier," Len replied after taking a long sip from his drink. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and shook his head, "you can whine and complain all you want, we can keep arguing like this too, but it won't get you anywhere. If you wanna go, fine, do you what you want. And if you wanna stay, suit yourself. I really don't care _what_ you do."

Her eyes resumed their glare.

He walked towards her, returning her glare. "You're just using the Joker as an excuse to try and convince me to leave."

Lucy's mouth parted, the fury intensifying at that. How _dare_ he. It was his fault she'd even run into the Joker, his fault for not coming to walk her home, and yet he didn't even seem like he gave a damn about _any_ of it.

"Since when did you become so _selfish_?" She whispered heatedly.

"Ah, there we go," he smiled humorlessly. "The judgement. Was wondering when _that'd_ show up." He tilted his head, "Selfish? Really? Well, since we're throwing _these_ out," he pointed, " _you're_ ungrateful, completely irrational, and naïve. Stop acting like you understand any of this, okay? You just don't how to leave things alone." He glared, "just do us both a favor and stay the hell _out_ of my business."

Lucy stared up at him a long moment, debating whether to give into the urge he'd just presented her with. Her fist clenched and unclenched, her teeth grinding together, and her face felt as if it were on fire from how flushed with anger she felt.

' _Oh, screw it,'_ she thought before giving way to her emotions and releasing them in the form of a sound slap against her brother's face.

His face barely managed to redden with rage before Lucy reached out, snatched his beer can and emptied the contents against his shirt before crushing it and throwing it onto the floor. She breathed heavily and shook her head, shoving her way past him and towards her room.

"Bitch," he heard him growl beneath his breath, before she slammed her door shut.

Standing in the darkness of the room, hand fisting tightly around her doorknob, Lucy just stared blankly at the opposite wall, going over the argument in her head. She felt foolish for believing Len would be willing to listen to _anything_ she had to say.

She'd at least thought he'd be concerned for her safety after what had just happened, but it seemed he didn't even care.

Eyes shifting to the two jester paintings continuing to taunt her from across the room, Lucy saw only the leering face of the _real_ jester she'd encountered. He was going to kill her brother. Either that or Len would end up getting himself killed on the job or something.

Either way…she would lose him to that clown if she couldn't find a way to get him out of it.

Lowering her head, her eyes closed and she exhaled heavily. What the hell was she going to do? Why couldn't Len ever just listen? He was so _stubborn_.

She shuddered at the Joker's mocking tone of voice, of his dark expression. Len didn't understand. He was so hot-headed, feeling like he had something to prove, feeling he had to make up for what he considered to be their father's cowardice.

A very strong sense of helplessness began to creep over her, and she hated the weakening feeling of it.

' _Pull yourself together,'_ she tried to tell herself. _'There_ _ **has**_ _to be a way.'_

However, in the moment, it was difficult to feel confident in that conclusion. All she had to do was recall how easily it had been for the Joker to kill all four of those men. Len wouldn't stand a chance.

Of course, there was Batman, but why would he help one of the Joker's henchman? Some insignificant criminal. They were alone in the Narrows, the most forsaken corner of Gotham. And, as always, they would have to fend for themselves.

' _I have to be strong,'_ Lucy began to repeat to herself. _'I have to keep it together.'_

Besides, she _did_ always have one final resort. If all else failed…there was the police. And, even if she hated the thought, wouldn't it be worth Len hating her forever if it meant he could be safe?

She'd lose her brother's trust, lose whatever regard he still had for her, and she'd also be going against her own sense of caution in going to the police. However, what choice was she really being left with?

Would she be able to follow through if it came down to it? Could she really _betray_ him like that?

How much time did she really have? How long would Len last with the Joker?

She knew nothing about the work he was going to have to do.

However, as soon as that thought presented itself, her eyes suddenly widened. She was hit with that memory again. The memory of the Joker carving up the faces of those men.

Would…Len be ordered to do something like that? _Could_ he do it? She tried to imagine it, tried to imagine him in the Joker's place, and was struck with an earlier thought.

Would she even be able to recognize her brother anymore if this continued? It'd only been a day and _already_ she couldsee a change.

' _Stay strong,'_ she reminded herself, even as she started to panic a little.

…

He was lying on his back, one leg propped up, the firm mattress beneath him. His head hung off the side, his view inverted as he stared at the opposite wall. His hand leisurely and absently flicked his blade open and closed, and he repeated the motion as he stared, eyes unmoving.

At his side his purple coat was flung in a heap, while he briefly admired the way the rest of the suit felt on him. It felt good. It had been expensive, after all. But, he'd had the money to spare, so he'd figured…why _not_ allow himself a little luxury?

This passing thought returned him to his previous plotting, and he refocused. Gambol. The mob boss who'd just followed through and put that word out for him to be hunted down for a reward. Dead or alive. Just like a regular _out_ law! What a charming arrangement.

Having already decided he didn't really _need_ Gambol, the Joker started to indulge a plan to bring the fool down. To…put his illusion of power into _perspective_. And his new team of bounty hunters were going to help him do it.

Besides, he was doing this for more than educational reasons. Gambol had insulted him. Accusing his…mental state. Oh yes, the man _really_ needed to _go_. The idea to _end_ him had begun to form right and there.

The other mob members had taken to his kill-the-batman plan _beau_ tifully! What a thrill. But, not Gambol. No, he'd proven that he was only a waste of space in the overall plan.

The Joker blinked, but all other movement was absent aside from the constant snapping of the switchblade in his hand.

The actual details of the assassination mission began to click into place, the pieces pulling themselves together, his mind molding and sifting and weaving the grand design.

After he got _that_ kill out of the way, he would be able to focus on a much finer target. The Batman. He couldn't wait to see what all the fuss was about _there_. Couldn't wait to see with his own eyes why the vigilante had the entire mob running scared. He was pretty certain it was all just a fine bunch of _hype_.

Easily extinguished by those, like himself, who knew there wasn't anything to fear.

It'd be a fine kill. He'd have to plan something extra special for it.

Realizing he'd deviated from his original path of thought though, he slowly veered his way back onto it, the excitement diminishing just a little as he collected himself. _'Ah, but can't get_ _ **too**_ _far ahead of myself here.'_

Returning to the Gambol assassination plot, he went about solidifying the plan. He'd use the bounty to his advantage, and _that_ was where his handy little hunters came in.

' _I'll bring Sleepy, rule Nazi, and the whimpering kid.'_ The three of them had shown the most… _potential._ It was time to put them to work.

As for the actual killing of Gambol though…well, he'd improvise. Whatever seemed most appropriate in the moment. A dark feeling began to churn from deep within as he considered the conclusion to the grand event. It was…an inner destruction; a corroding sensation.

All he outwardly presented in reaction to that deteriorating feeling though, was a wince from one of his eyes and a harsher withdrawal of the blade in his hand.

But, he snapped the knife closed again with finality and the feeling vanished, his face once again turning expressionless, the glint which had taken his eyes disappearing and returning them to their typical, unresponsive stare.

' _Mhm, I'll improvise.'_ He concluded as he moved on from that thought.

When his mind momentarily took a blank turn, he more vividly focused on the feel of the knife in his hand. He turned it a little in his palm and ran a finger along the fine edge of the sharpened blade. Why did this knife feel so familiar?

' _Oh yes, yes.'_ He suddenly recalled the previous evening. He'd used it on that gang of rapists. When he'd gotten to play _hero_.

It was the most fun he'd had in a while. It'd been _stimulating_. Not the kills, of course, those weren't anything exceptional, but the hero role. It'd been a _great_ joke and his performance had been exhilarating! The little girl had proven to be a wonderful audience too. She hadn't looked away, not even once.

Ever since coming to Gotham, it'd been all about getting down to business. He just had so much to _do_! Between the mob, the city officials, and now the killing of the Batman, it'd been all work and hardly any _play_.

Exposing the true nature of an entire city, after all, was no piece of cake. The people would soon _see_ , they would be led by extreme example, and he'd provide it to them. He'd take Gotham. He'd encourage them to join his anarchic plot. He'd reveal them to themselves. He'd reveal that they weren't so different from him at all.

They'd see that they were _all_ the very thing they considered themselves so far _above_.

It was the greatest joke of them all!

There'd be plenty more fun to come, he was sure. And, if nothing else, it'd be satisfying. After all, it wasn't the fun he was really in it all for. No, no. This was his _calling_ as a true agent of chaos.

That dark, corroding sensation returned, and he fell a little deeper inside of it, feeling like it was trying to _devour_ him.

His eye twitched again and he returned to his motion of flipping the knife open and closed again.

He redirected his thoughts. Yes, that _damsel_ had provided him some fun in the middle of all this business. It just proved that _anyone_ could do the Batman's job,even a guy like him. Of _course_ he could. There was no real difference between a 'hero' and a 'villain' at the core of things, after all. And he could _even_ do it better. He wasn't restricted to the supposed code of the vigilante. He wasn't bound by those moral rules. That 'no kill' policy he was presumably _bound_ by.

If that rule was true, it was definitely intriguing, and he once again felt a little impatient to finally meet the caped crusader. But, then again, it was also possible that he wouldn't even measure up. He might prove himself to be just like everyone else. Why else would he wear a mask to hide who he truly was?

The Joker decided then that, before killing him, he would expose the Batman for who he really was. So that _all_ the world could see!

Since he was in the business of grand reveals, why not start with the very grandest of them all?

He wasn't the only one curious to know. Despite how appalled the people would be, they'd be every bit as eager to _see_.

Like that little girl from last night. Oh, she just _couldn't_ look away. She'd looked so upset, so shocked, so…terrified, but she hadn't been able to look away.

His lip twitched into a smirk. Yes, they were _all_ the very _same_ on the inside.


	6. Deathly Alive

**A/N** : _One of my favorite scenes in 'The Dark Knight' here in this chapter, where you really see that darker side of the Joker for the first time. It is also the only scene where Len can be found ;) Lol. Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter VI: Deathly Alive

" _I come alive in slow motion  
Make it last forever  
I come alive  
Release..."_

 _-Digital Daggers_

 **{.+.}**

Over the weeks that followed, the Joker met with his motley team everyday, giving them whatever tasks and exercises he had on hand –whatever came to _mind_. And he was beginning to see some real improvement; he could really see the shift he'd been _waiting_ to see.

For them, he represented power and reckless freedom. He saw that spark in their eyes, the way they looked to him. In awe and adoration, _even_ respect. It fueled them. Oh, molding them was so effortless it was almost funny.

They'd be ready soon. Ready for their first little mission.

Killing Gambol.

Sleepy had proven he could keep a cool head in a stressful situation, which was _very_ useful. Why, the Joker had even caught him making light of the tasks at times, implying a more carefree sort of behavior beneath the surface. A careless sort of behavior. He was becoming just a little impressive. He, by far, had the most potential.

The rule Nazi had turned out to be the intimidation factor of the group, the one who cracked down and tried to keep things…serious. Which, in its own way, could also be useful. Definitely advantageous, depending on the situation.

And the whimpering kid was just as foolish as he'd ever been, but he was also the most gullible. He'd do anything the Joker asked without question. The fall guy. There always needed to be at _least_ one. The most disposable. One used to make an example if need be.

There were twelve others who'd made the cut, but he decided that they'd just be used as muscle. They'd each been given a clown mask and a gun –still pawns, but of a different kind.

Nazi, Whimper and Sleepy were to be his 'bounty hunters'.

Of course, he wanted to maintain that level of…appropriate danger in his interactions with them, but he also wanted to fuel their admiration of him. It would work to his advantage best of all. So, he made things fun for them, let them feel powerful. Fed that illusion of control they had. And they _loved_ him for it.

He sat back and watched them, dark eyes plotting and analyzing and devoid of anything else.

…

She placed a pair of earbuds into her ears, glanced down, scrolled briefly, then selected a song and turned up the volume to an almost deafening level. She didn't want to think. She was tired of it.

Striding forward, she flexed her hands and retrieved her brush. She'd been putting this off for far too long. Her muse had been screaming at her to allow its escape since the moment it'd been realized. Lucy glanced to the two pristine paintings of those jesters and then shifted her eyes to the blank canvas.

And visualized _him_.

She now finally could without the massacre immediately sending her shying away from the memory. She had been determined to overcome and conquer it. She couldn't continue to let it hold her down. It was time to move forward.

She'd started several paintings inspired by him, but she'd stopped halfway through, not entirely able to continue. Now, however, she felt she had a firmer grasp on his influence over her.

With the music blasting, she placed the first stroke of paint onto the page and strayed from her usual method of close inspection to detail, as she simply tried to adopt the same careless technique which had been used on the real thing. She unleashed the numb, the worry, the sadness, the desperation, the anxiety, the horror, and the anger onto the depiction, watching as it all abstractly formed a nightmarish face.

She captured the empty eyes and the inanimate grin, and, around it, she swirled a mirage of chaotic color, in no particular order or rhythm. An empty face amidst a sea of horrific vitality. Like the eye of a hurricane or something.

Wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, she moved her bangs from where they'd fallen over her eyes, feeling the flow of creativity pulsing through her. She paused only a moment, examined her work so far, and then dived right back into it.

In the break offered from one song on her iPod switching to the next, she heard a clatter in the kitchen and briefly glanced up with a furrow of her brows. Seemed Len was home.

But, she just went back to work. Since that argument they'd had, she and her brother had barely spoken. And each day her worry had grown. The trace of fear that she'd seen on that first day had now completely vanished, and he was back to his same, happy-go-lucky self.

She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that he really wasn't in any danger, but the Joker was far too unpredictable for that, wasn't he? He was still an unknown factor, and that would just never sit well with her.

So she had determined to simply remain vigilant. If there was any hint of danger, she would then decide how to act. But, even as she considered that, she felt the familiar uncertainty.

If the time came…she still didn't know if she could go to the police. And it wasn't simply because she didn't trust them. No, it would definitely signify the loss of her brother for good. She'd lose his affection, whatever he still genuinely felt for her anyway.

Try as she might to look past how selfish that was, and feeling that she should've gone directly to the authorities when it'd all started….she still couldn't bring herself to do it. Could hardly even bring herself to think it.

It'd hurt him, but wasn't that worth it if it could guarantee his safety?

Lucy sighed, that argument with herself overworked. She added frustration to her mix of emotions and continued to paint.

Len had gained significant…confidence since he'd taken on the job, a certain…swaggering arrogance. It'd made _that_ fear into a reality as well. That this would all start to change him. She didn't like what was happening at all.

And what terrified her the most was that…it no longer seemed so unlikely that Len was capable of scarring and massacring in the same way the Joker had. There was something so unnervingly similar about the way he approached it all. With that carefree attitude of his.

' _So much for not thinking,'_ Lucy thought as she lowered the brush, finished with the painting.

Looking to the window, she saw it was already dark, and so reached over to turn on her lamp. It cast an eerie shadow on the portrait, the effect similar to the way he had looked in that alley. Lucy crossed her arms and scanned the entirety of the picture, before finally settling her eyes on the blank, lifeless gaze staring back at her.

She expressionlessly stared before a slow smirk formed. _This_ was the element she had been missing. The complete release of everything she'd been feeling since the event. Chaos and recklessness more perfectly and more powerfully captured the muse than the two perfect pictures beside her.

Surrounding her were about a dozen attempted and discarded canvases, and she simply sat amidst them, not bothering to throw them out. They'd all led her here, to this masterpiece of _her_ creation. And, in doing so, it gave her the feeling of somehow besting the clown –of somehow having some form of control over the elusive force that he was.

If she'd noticed anything about him, it was that he thrived off of the impact he presented to people. On more than just _physically_ scarring them.

He'd left her in alley in the wake of his destruction, probably assuming it'd continue to torment her; that his face would haunt her.

And it had. For a time. But, she still believed in being able to pull something beautiful from _anything_. And so, holding to that belief, she'd endeavored it and succeeded. She'd succeeded through the creation of the masterpiece before her. And that was why it satisfied her. She had bested that maniac because she'd used what he'd undoubtedly attempted to scar her with to instead create something extraordinary. He'd given her the power to do that. _Enabled_ her.

Her smirk widened.

It was the only form of control she had over _any_ of this.

Then she blinked as she moved from his eyes to that painted, scarred smile, suddenly struck with an odd sort of observation. Sure, she'd thrown sadness into the array of emotional delivery, but it was strange to see how perfectly fitting it was.

That face…how lifeless it was. How empty the eyes were, how nonexistent that smile actually was. It reminded her of a cage. A very dark, lonely cage. She'd never seen such a despairing look. And yet it was so hateful at the same time.

Her eyes lowered. It was…so strange. It was a very dark expression and, upon realizing this, it was somehow more frightening than it had ever been to her.

…

Another day passed, and the Joker sat and stared out the window as he absently drummed his fingers over his knee. His lips pursed and he connected all the lingering, floating pieces of his thoughts.

Tonight. _Tonight_ was the night.

It'd be the…moment of _truth_. He'd been keeping tabs on Gambol, so _all_ he had to do was assign one of his little hunters to make the call. To say they'd managed to kill the Joker. The mob boss would take to the bait beautifully.

His leg bounced a little up and down in anticipation, but his face remained expressionless.

Some people passed on the street below, the south side of the narrows visible from his vantage point, but he wasn't really watching, wasn't really listening. He was hardly aware of anything but his thoughts, though he continued to absently observe. Anything at all _useful_ would simply make its way into his mind on its own.

It was several minutes later that he finally stood, reached for his jacket and threw it on. He observed a few different knives, turning them this way and that, inspecting the glint, the shape, the _feel_.

' _This'll do,'_ he decided on one, and placed it where it'd be most easily accessible.

He shut off his light, momentarily surrounded by the dark, before leaving the sudden dreadful silence of the room and sauntering on out into the hall and down the stairs, clattering loudly.

He clapped his hands and his three hunters obediently turned when they same him, all eagerly awaiting his orders.

"Boys," he said as he reached over and grabbed a gun as an extra precaution. "Gear up. We move tonight."

They were already aware of the plan and the roles they'd fill, and so they nodded and looked to each other with a renewed... _zeal_.

But, the Joker hardly paid them any attention, his mind in a different mode. He had work to do.

…

Everything happened pretty fast, and before Len knew it, he had shoved the Joker, complete in a makeshift body bag, into the trunk of Benny's antique Cadillac. He really couldn't thank Benny enough for landing him this job in the first place. He really didn't know _why_ the Joker insisted on calling his friend 'whimpy', but none of them ever dared to question it.

He smirked. In comparison, his own nickname wasn't so bad. He thought he'd been dead for sure when he'd yawned that first day, but he'd been wrong. It was actually a little embarrassing to look back on all that and consider how terrified he'd been. Like some mindless coward.

So, he'd determined to brave it up. He wasn't a coward. And the Joker seemed to notice too. At times, he even looked impressed, and Len had never felt more accomplished.

The Joker was a charismatic and fearless leader. Working for him had the effect of making a person feel that they could be just as fearless. And Len invited that feeling. The Joker inspired fear in others, but it was all like some inside joke in their group. They'd all been there, but the Joker had seen actual potential in all of _them_.

He really seemed to value them. Made them feel like they were really part of something. He was inspiring that way.

And now they were on their way to take out one of biggest mobsters in Gotham City. They were all well on their way to becoming legends, rising quickly with the Joker at their helm.

Len gripped his gun tighter. It was something Lucy just couldn't understand. She was weak and she'd always been so easily frightened. She wanted to run and, in his eyes, nothing could be more shameful.

She was free to do what she wanted, and he wasn't going to let her guilt him into following her. He was made for bigger things. Safety and security didn't matter much to him in comparison. She was only making herself look more pathetic, the more she pushed.

Plus, she'd just been acting strangely. After that whole…incident. Whatever it was. He was sure she was dramatizing it. Still, what he took from it, was that she should be grateful. Grateful the Joker had saved her and spared her. For some screwy reason, she'd only come from that thinking he was more dangerous. She did nothing but assume to know anything. She didn't know a thing about the Joker.

She wouldn't talk to him and she mostly kept to herself. Not that it was so out of the ordinary for her to do _that,_ she was pretty damn introverted, but when he'd walked into her room once to ask if she had money for some pizza, he'd seen all the pictures she'd been painting.

It weirded him out. She'd been fast asleep when he'd walked in, so he'd been able to observe them all pretty closely.

They'd all been pictures of clowns and jesters.

He basically concluded that it was just her way of being dramatic. Acting all traumatized. She was messing with her own mind, giving into her fears.

He didn't understand it.

Benny braked the car and looked to 'the Rule Nazi' –AKA Richie, and told him to help him get the Joker out of the trunk.

Len stepped out and cocked his gun, readying himself for whatever was coming. It was pretty exciting and sure beat the hell out of drug dealing, though he'd still kind of been dabbling on the side. His clients had been getting pretty impatient for a hit of his 'lucky treats'.

He concealed his gun inside his coat and Benny and Richie carried the Joker up to the door, where two bodyguards were standing. They were rough and mean looking, but Len wasn't fazed at all. They looked to each other, spoke on an earpiece, and then lifted the top of the black bag to see the Joker's 'lifeless' face.

Len had to hide a smile. The boss was pretty convincing. No surprise there.

They nodded and motioned them inside. It was a bar, and it seemed Gambol had cleared the place out for himself and his henchman. It really was pretty funny how untouchable they thought they were. This was such a simple plan.

Before they turned the corner, they were intercepted by five other members of the gang. A few words were exchanged, two of them relieved Benny and Richie of the body bag, and two others went to inform their boss of the deed.

When the two holding the Joker moved into the room, the three boys followed, looking about the room, slight smirks and smiles on their faces. It wouldn't be strange to appear excited, after all. They were, in theory, about to earn themselves five hundred grand.

The anticipation hung in the air, and it was cool how electrifying it was.

And Len also made sure to stay alert. If the Joker had taught him anything, it was to do that. To expect the unexpected. The boss, after all, was the master of the unexpected.

Gambol circled the pool table, looking down at the body bag as it was placed on top of the table. He observed it curiously a second, before abruptly reaching out and removing the top of the bag.

And there was the Joker. Seemingly unpresuming, presumably dead. But Len saw it for what it was. He was just lying in wait. Like a cobra waiting to strike.

They _all_ were.

Gambol smirked and continued moving. He hadn't looked up at them yet, but Len knew it was coming. He walked with a swagger, his confidence so clear. It was such an example of pride coming before the fall. It was funny. It was _really_ funny. _This_ fool was going to get what he deserved.

"So," Gambol spoke as he looked up at them. Well, looked up _and_ looked _down_ on them, with his boastful expression. "Dead?" His voice sounded even a little condescending.

Like he was looking down on them for taking the easy option and not bringing the Joker in alive. Len just sneered a little. Well, the joke was on _him_ , wasn't it? They had. Gambol wanted it, and he was sure going to get it.

"That's five hundred," Gambol concluded, before opening his mouth to continue.

But he never really got that chance, because the Joker took that opportunity to strike. Using the two men beside him for support, he sprang up from that table and moved with fluid, smooth precision, propelling himself forward and withdrawing his knife, coming to stand right in front of Gambol as the man turned, eyes wide and mouth hung open in shock, creating the perfect opening for the knife to move solidly to the inside of his cheek as the Joker's other hand expertly moved to cradle the back of his head, sealing him in his vice-like hold.

"How 'bout alive?" he asked in his unusual, flowing drawl. "Hm?"

Len and the others took that as their cue and moved along with him, grabbing the three men nearest to them, dropping them and holding a gun to each of their heads. The warning was unspoken to all the others standing around in shock.

They move and the guns would go off. Not to mention that their boss would be cut down. Of course, that was going to happen anyway, but _they_ didn't know that.

Len just watched the Joker then, admiring his performance and technique. It was incredible. It was really his first time seeing him in action like this.

…

The prelude to a kill was always his _favorite_ part. To savor every little, fleeting thing.

Staring Gambol directly in the eyes, enjoying the fear he was receiving, enjoying the very obvious and complete…absence of that power trip he'd been on, his control being torn from him, The Joker gazed _down_ at him darkly.

And that corrosive feeling returned. It flared in anticipation, and he held it at bay, only his eyes betraying any of it.

He leaned forward, voice lowering as he began to speak into his ear. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" He pulled back a little and nodded for Gambol, as indication to himself that he should continue.

Then his eyes rolled to the left, his mind immediately constructing a story. An explanation. Because they _all_ were wondering it, and they all wanted to understand and to know the history behind him.

And, what he'd also discovered, was that it was always best to… _cater_ the story to the audience. To offer an explanation that they could… _relate_ to.

So, in little Gambol's case, he'd center it around parents. Around father figures. Harsh, cruel, merciless. Gambol would understand. He was a product of his environment too, after all.

He'd be able to relate to the story in his dying moments.

And as the Joker told the story, he fell deeper into the destructing feeling it offered. As with any expert performer, he told it as if it'd _really_ happened. He let it _become_ his reality for that one moment. He let the memory take him, take his voice and his mannerisms and his movements. He let it take his tone.

The words came to him naturally, effortlessly. They fell from his lips in an unstoppable rhythm. He let the words pierce deep. An edge entered his tone, something slipped through, a deep and twisted bit of truth to it all. There _always_ was. It was simply distorted. Warped into the necessary…catering. It was all about the effect, after all. The impression.

He delivered the final line. Eyes heavy with the darkness of the feeling he'd fallen into. "He puts the blade in my mouth: 'Let's put a _smile_ on that face.'"

It was faint and _barely_ even recognizable to him. A fragment, a ghost of memory. But the Joker only welcomed the euphoria of whatever it was that continued to pain him.

He smiled wide, and then it fell, and he squinted as he smacked his lips and began to descend from his brief bout of mania. " _Annnd..."_

His mouth closed, and his eyes shifted. To him, it was already done. He'd seen all he was going to see from Gambol.

His gaze settled on the bodyguard staring fearfully up at his boss for one, ominous moment. After all, it was much more satisfying to watch a reaction to a death than to see a death itself.

Because when it came time to close the curtain, to kill, well…it was really the _boring_ part. It meant the fun was over.

See, after a person died, the Joker no longer had any interest in them. There were no more expressions to witness, no more traits or emotions to be…uncovered.

It was simply done.

So, when the time came, he looked away from Gambol completely, tilted his head at the man who was looking to him in such horror, and simply asked, "Why so serious?" Voice calm, expression flat.

Then, he dug deep and pulled.

And Gambol began to bleed out without a sound as his body went limp and the Joker released him. He hit the ground with a thud and the Joker just sighed, the job done, as he reached up and yanked the bag off of himself.

"Now," The Joker said, stepping over Gambol's body and thinking quickly. _'Onto the next order of business.'_ A brilliant idea had just presented itself to him. "Our operation is small," he explained, rounding the table and looking about the room somewhat absently. "But," he continued, pocketing his knife. "There's _a lot_ of potential," he reached for a pool stick, lifted and observed it, before turning back to the room. "For…aggressive…" he searched for the right words without missing a beat, playing the audience again. He clenched his fists and then spread his arms wide with an encouraging smile, "expansion!"

He noticed Sleepy nod, expression firm and determined. But, he moved on from that observation just as quickly as it had come.

"So which of you fine gentleman would like to join our team?!" The Joker asked as his voice steadily rose into a high-pitched _fun_ tone of voice. He wanted them to feel like it'd be fun. He wanted them to feel encouraged, even if it was doubtful they actually would.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and then continued in an afterthought, lifting one hand and continuing to hold the pool stick in the other. He was sure he'd need it here in a moment.

"Oh, there's only spot open right now, so we're gonna have…" he paused and snapped the stick in two over his knee. He noticed Rule Nazi grinning at everything he said, so susceptible to the game, as Whimpy looked on sort of…hesitantly. Sleepy, though, Sleepy simply kept his eyes on his target.

Well, until he snapped the stick. Then he had the attention of everyone. He knew that without even looking at them as he observed each end of the pool stick, determining the sharper one. Survival of the fittest, after all.

"Tryouts," he concluded deeply, before continuing in his inspection, feeling his eyes light up, and then dropping the one in his right hand onto the floor, where it fell with a nice, little clatter.

The men were looking to him in horror, but the Joker was already done with them. He slung the other half of the stick in his left hand over his shoulder and sighed before sweeping past them all towards the door.

"Make it fast," he added to Sleepy as he exited the room. The boy didn't look at him, but did as he was told as he immediately threw down his hostage along with the others.

The Joker pursed his lips in thought. He found it more than a little interesting that Sleepy was the only one who had held his hostage at arm's length. He needed to figure out the reason for that.

He had a theory though. That it was all part of the boy's desperate need to cover up his cowardice. This was simply a case of it showing through. Sleepy wanted to…detach himself. Wanted the act to be as far from him as possible.

They'd have to work on that.

He could hear the scuffling and the grunts from inside the bar as he stepped outside, glancing at the two men who were standing unaware at the door. And without a glance, the Joker ran the first through with that half of a pool stick, while slitting the throat of the other with his knife.

He wiped off his gloves and made his way to the car, where he'd wait for the boys.

He'd reward them for their work. It'd make them feel…important. A bite to eat would do it. He could use a bite to eat. What was in the area?

He pursed his lips in thought and peered through the windshield to the few visible establishments.

The neon sign for the 'Ace Note' bar caught his eye and he nodded to himself. A bite _and_ a drink for the boys.

* * *

 **A/N** : _And here we are. The next chapter will have another interaction between Lucy and the Joker, and things will really start moving for the two of them from that point on :)_


	7. Face Off

**A/N** : This chapter is where Lucy and the Joker really confront each for the first time ;) Please let me know what you think of it!

* * *

 **Unsmile**

Chapter VII: Face Off

" _Staring into open flames  
Something in it had a power,  
Could barely tear my eyes away  
All you have is your fire."_

 _-Hozier_

 **{.+.}**

The evening had started off relatively normally, all things considered. Lucy had scrounged about her room for a matching sock, then finally decided on one that didn't. Who was going to see it anyway? She'd tied her hair up loosely and grabbed a jacket, before turning to leave the room.

She bit her lip and then glanced back and down at her drawer. After staring for a second, she slowly walked over, clenching her fist in hesitation and then pulling the drawer open. Her pocket knife sat there. A gift her dad had given her for her thirteenth birthday.

After a sigh, she reached in and grabbed it. She'd been debating keeping it on her ever since the 'incident', but each time she considered it she felt just a little ridiculous. For one, she didn't have the slightest idea how to use a knife, and whenever she thought of it the Joker instantly came to mind. She couldn't help but visualize his expert, horrifying movements with a blade. Which brought her to her second dilemma.

Would she _really_ be able to harm someone? To actually bring herself to do that?

It almost brought a shudder, but her hand tightened around the knife all the same. She needed something, at least, some sort of leverage.

So, despite feeling ridiculous, she pocketed the weapon and left the room and her apartment, descending the rickety stairs and walking the familiar route to the bar. The sun was setting, glistening off all of her surroundings in an orange glow.

It was really just the same old scenery –graffiti along the walls, junkies and whores standing along the streets. And in the distance, she could hear emergency sirens. Though, they were far from the Narrows. _Too_ far.

Lucy glanced up and watched the sky overhead. It served as a reminder. It reminded her that someday, somewhere, she'd be looking up at the very same sky…as far away as those sirens were. If not _further_.

When she'd reached the 'Ace Note', she shrugged off her jacket, tied an apron around her waist, and dutifully clocked in. There was the ordinary, everyday jazzy blues station playing on the cackling intercom above, setting the mood for the establishment, and a few of the regular patrons were the only people lingering around in the place. It was a Tuesday, so it was expected to be pretty slow.

Tuesdays were usually a drag.

Glancing down, Lucy frowned a little when she saw that she'd forgotten to wash the paint off her hands. After a sigh, she looked over at her manager, but then hoped it'd simply escape his notice. It wasn't horrible looking, and she could probably hide it if she held her hands just right whenever he came around.

The customers certainly wouldn't care.

It wasn't until about three hours into her shift that the normalcy of the evening took an abrupt turn. It was dark out, there were only two occupied tables in the entire place, and Lucy was leaning against the counter of the bar, a little bored and making random markings on a napkin with a pen.

"Hey, you think Drisk will mind if I go ahead and close up the back?" Lucy's co-worker asked.

Lucy glanced up at her then shifted her eyes to the closed door of their manager's office. A sarcastic smirk crossed her face, "well...it's pretty doubtful he'll even notice. Should be fine."

"Good point," she nodded. "I'll get started on that then. You wanna work on cleaning up the bar area?"

"That's cool with me," Lucy returned the nod. "Thanks, Vick."

Victoria was a nice enough girl, but she put most of her money towards drugs, and it seemed her addiction had taken over all of her other interests. She was one of Len's customers, and one which had curiously stopped complaining about her brother's break from dealing.

Lucy just sighed and returned to her absent scribbling on the napkin. She'd get started on the cleaning in a minute or two.

Or so she'd thought.

The bell rang at the door, and she stalled a moment before slowly lifting her eyes. What she saw instantly took the boredom from her gaze as they instead widened in alarm.

"Oh, fuck," she automatically whispered under her breath.

The Joker, followed closely by her own brother and his friend, Benny. There was also a third guy she didn't recognize, but she figured he was one of the other 'hunter's' Len had mentioned. Had her brother told The Joker about his connection with her?

She thought quickly. Maybe she could just act like she wasn't here. If he'd come here for her, then hiding might be the best option. Maybe no one would be hurt. It was a real stretch, she knew that, but he hadn't seemed to notice her yet as he stalked towards a table in the center of the room.

Lucy spun around and headed for the kitchen. The music was louder, the cooks often motivated by it to keep up their steady pace. They looked up at her curiously, and she tried to act as normal as she could. A panic might set the psycho off.

These guys were used to dealing with every type of thug who happened to stroll into the place, but the Joker was different. Unpredictably deadly. There didn't seem to be any reasoning behind the things he did.

She'd only been allowed a few moment though, before her boss stuck his head around the corner. "Lucy! What are you doing? Get the hell out here and help out!"

Lucy closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and reluctantly followed the infuriating man out into the restaurant. She didn't want to cause a scene, if she could help it. It might attract…extremely _unwanted_ attention.

When she walked out she saw that Victoria had taken the table, though the girl didn't seem to care at all that the guy she was waiting on was a mass-murderer.

Like everyone else, she was probably underestimating him. Chalking him up as just another crazy in the Narrows.

"That's the 'Joker' guy, right?" Her boss asked with a shake of his head. "Even more bizarre than I've heard." He then looked to Lucy and snapped his fingers towards the bar area. "Get started on Vicky's drink order, would yuh?"

Lucy nodded mutely and obliged him, heading to the bar as she tried to keep her head down. Maybe he really _was_ just in here to eat. Seemed like it. She hoped so. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even remember her. He'd been paying way more attention to his own show than to who his audience had been.

He had more important things to concern himself with, right? Bigger things on his mind.

With hesitant acceptance, Lucy reached for the ticket Victoria had just sent through and went about preparing the request. She noticed one of them had ordered a Maker's and Coke, and rolled her eyes. Len for sure. That was his drink of choice when he was trying to _impress_.

Subtly shifting her eyes across the room, she saw as her brother swiftly sent a glance her way, before glaring and returning to his ignoring her. He smiled widely and laughed with the other two guys sitting with him.

The Joker had animatedly been conversing with them, but as his interest seemed to waiver, he took to glancing about the room and Lucy took that as her cue to avoid looking over at them. No eye contact.

"Did you wanna go over and say hi to your brother?"

Lucy instantly looked to Victoria as the girl was innocently reaching for the drinks on the counter and setting them on a tray.

"Oh, uh, no." She looked suddenly fervent then. "Vick, whatever you do, don't mention that we're related. Not to… _him_ , okay?"

It seemed he didn't know yet, and she recognized it as a good thing. He didn't need to know of their connection. She didn't want him to have any leverage over Len.

Victoria made a face like 'you're crazy', before shrugging and turning to deliver the drinks.

Lucy didn't watch as she headed back to the table, but instead turned to clean some of the dirtied glasses. The monotonous action soothed the situation a little, but she still felt on edge. She hated having to look away, blind to whatever might come. But she felt she had to resist, that it'd only make things worse if he were to see and recognize her.

It might make the entire situation more dangerous for Len.

However, when she heard the Joker suddenly speak up, apparently to Victoria, Lucy's eyes widened as she listened, the panic starting to settle in.

"Oh, so you know little, uh… _Lenny_?" His voice rose even higher. "You know little Lenny here?"

He laughed and she could hear a bit of shuffling, before hearing a gasp from Victoria. Lucy looked up and then cringed. The Joker had the girl by the wrist, knife drawn.

"You aren't _scared_ of me, are you?" He asked her lowly.

The girl had started trembling, just now seeming to realize what the man before her was really capable of.

Lucy looked around for Drisk, but he seemed to have disappeared into his office again. She huffed in frustration, before deciding on some sort of distraction. Maybe it would work.

With a firm hand, she shoved the glasses off the shelf, watching as they shattered onto the floor while she jumped back to avoid the glass. Her mouth went wide, not having intended to create _quite_ such a mess.

But, as she peeked up, it seemed it had worked. All eyes were on her. And from the office, her boss emerged, looking enraged.

"Lucy!" He shouted, "You clumsy piece of-" he stopped himself and shook his head, "Clean it all up _now_."

"Okay," she answered shakily, wrapping a strand of hair around her ear, and looking back over to see the Joker pocketing his knife, shaking his head at Victoria, and giving her a pat on the hand.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he said, voice back to its high-pitched nonchalance, but with an underlying, mocking edge. "We're just messing around, huh?"

Victoria just nodded and then hastily turned, claiming that she was going to check on their food.

The Joker shared a laugh with the boys, and Lucy was disheartened to notice that Len was genuinely joining in on it. He wasn't faking that laugh. He'd thought the whole thing was funny too.

And that was when Lucy felt her anger return, seeping through the tension of her anxiety. She was angry at the Joker for trapping her brother like this, for starting to _change_ him.

The Joker glanced up then, eyes shifting towards her absently. But, as he removed them, and just as she relaxed a little, his gaze drifted right back, more quickly. She held her breath and he tilted his head curiously a moment, before something appeared to click into place.

Lucy stiffened instantly, and the Joker hid his surprise with amusement. He slowly stood, eyes never moving from her face as she watched him. Now that she didn't _have_ to look away, now that the game was up, she was free to keep her eyes on the source of all her current misfortunes.

But, she _did_ send a brief glance Len's way, just in time to see the shock on his face, before he shifted his focus purposefully away.

Well, she supposed that'd be the best thing here. She was still fairly certain that the Joker knowing they were related would be a bad thing.

So, she returned her guarded observation to the man himself as he neared her. It wasn't much different seeing him out of the dark, but she _did_ feel more prepared this time. She'd had her first encounter with him already, and so the shock was lessened. Plus, she'd also depicted his likeness several times since then.

His face was almost familiar to her now.

"Well _hello_ again," he said as his tongue flicked out briefly. "Uh…" he squinted his eyes a moment as he settled against the other side of the counter, gaze level with hers. "Lucy?"

Lucy felt the urge to smack her boss for shouting her name the way he had. But, the feeling passed and she just nodded again. As familiar as the face was, as he stood so close, she realized just how intense the real person was in comparison. How penetrating those eyes of his were.

"What are the odds, huh?" He continued, tilting his head. "Running into _you_ again. Of all people." He glanced down at the glass shards at her feet. "That little mess was your doing, hm?" His eyes shifted back up to hers immediately.

All Lucy did was answer with another nod. She didn't know how to respond to him.

"Hm…not much of a talker, are you?" He pressed, and then pointed a single finger towards her. "I _noticed_ that about you the other night."

He referenced that encounter so casually. Just another day in the life to him. But, she recognized that she was going to have to respond to something, so she breathed in deep, answering in a voice that was only slightly above a whisper.

"I…I don't know what to say," she said honestly.

Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, hidden from his view, as she stood straight and rigid. He, however, was leaning casually, forearms resting comfortably atop the counter.

"Do I…make you nervous?" He asked, already nodding for himself. So conclusive in his observation.

"…yes, you do." Lucy again replied truthfully.

His eyes narrowed a little then as he inspected her. He'd analyzed her a little in that alleyway, but he seemed more intent on it now. There wasn't anything else to distract him from it this time.

"Is it the scars?" He deadpanned, like that line was overused.

She noticed the slight twitch one of his hands automatically made, and that his eyes suddenly looked even more intense than before.

It felt like he was on the verge of something again, standing on the very edge, about to take a plunge. Lucy recognized that it all depended on how she answered.

"It isn't because of the scars," she said, voice gaining a little more strength behind it.

No, it definitely wasn't the scars. She'd seen them so many times in her own mind, depicting and evaluating them. Those scars were a very essential aspect to the muse he fed. They added something striking. In fact, without them, the portrait would really be lacking its most vital characteristic.

His face was such a work of art.

He blinked at her answer, and his head tilted again as he silently urged her to elaborate.

"The scars don't make me nervous," Lucy repeated, a little more firmly, continuing to meet his gaze. "It's just that I don't…know what to expect from you. The unpredictable has always made me feel nervous."

The Joker blinked again, and he appeared to be analyzing her once more. She watched as he seemed to bite at his inner cheek, at those scars.

Then, he seemed to decide on something and refocused on the conversation. "You wanna know why you feel that way?" He continued on without waiting for a response. "See, you've been, uh, _conditioned_ to feel uncomfortable by the things that don't go according to plan. That don't _fit_ into society's standards."

Lucy's brows furrowed. Conditioned? To feel uncomfortable by unpredictability? He was really generalizing, wasn't he?

"I think it's just part of who I am," she responded automatically, a little riled by what he'd said.

He clicked his tongue, seeming to ignore what she'd just said. "You like to feel that you have some sort of control over a situation. Society enables you to think that. But, it's all a… _joke_ , isn't it, Lucy? 'Cause _nothing_ …" he trailed off as his twitching hand moved swiftly and pulled out his switchblade. He lowered his eyes and just observed it absently. "Can _really_ be controlled."

Lucy felt briefly nervous as she looked to the knife he held. Was he losing his patience or something? Maybe he was just getting bored with the conversation. But, she felt even more riled up by him, hating that he was presuming to know her like that.

"It's not about controlling the situation," she said, feeling just a little heat slip through to her words, and wishing not for the first time that she could reign it in a little. "It's just…the more I'm able to understand, the better I feel I can handle myself."

His gaze drifted back up to her, but it was lazy, like he didn't really care what she was saying at this point.

Lucy felt her eyes harden at that. She hated when people made their own assumptions and then proceeded to disregard whatever you had to say in response.

"The reason I like to understand, to be able to handle myself…is because that's the one thing I _do_ have control over," she said, foregoing caution. "I can better control how I'll respond to things."

"Oh?" He asked, voice mocking. Then, before she could so much as blink, he'd grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her close, towards the knife which he now held at her cheek. "And how about now, _huh_? Do you still feel…in control of yourself?" His lips smacked, and he just stared down with his empty, condescending eyes. "Are you going to respond how _you_ want, or are you going to respond…" he tapped the knife's cool edge against her skin, "how _this_ forces you to?"

Lucy's heart was thudding, and she felt an instant wave of fear, a wave of desperation. She didn't want to die, didn't _want_ him to hurt her. Her eyes felt wide, and she'd breathed in sharply. He was watching her fear and enjoying it in the same way he'd enjoyed seeing it from those rapists he'd killed.

His hand was held roughly through her hair, the glove harsh against the back of her neck. She couldn't even move. But her eyes watched, her eyes continued to watch him. She didn't struggle, knew that she _couldn't_.

What he'd said resonated deeply with her. He was trying to prove something here. Prove that he could take all control from a person.

Her instincts were suddenly hushed, and just _knowing_ she couldn't escape settled her. There were no other options, she was trapped here. She relaxed, breathing out steadily, blinking slowly and her emotions settling. Her heart continued to pound in fear for itself, but she accepted this for what it was. The fear still present, but subdued.

She was completely at his mercy here. She could struggle, try to beg, but she already recognized it wouldn't do any good. She could play the hero, go out with a final word, force some courage and ignore the fear. She could draw the knife out of her pocket and go down fighting.

But none of those things were honest of how she felt; they wouldn't even have an effect on him. There wasn't a thing she could do or say to save herself from this if he really wanted to drive that knife through her. If she was really about to die. Her own weapon was completely useless against him.

So, all she could do was accept it. Accept the fear, accept the situation, accept it all.

When death was literally staring you in the face…all a person could really control was how to react to it. And so she very subtly smiled, despite how her lip quivered. Her breaths eased and her mind cleared. She didn't fight it.

Her eyes were calm then as she looked to him. She didn't feel cowardly, didn't feel like she was just...giving up. Only took it for what it was. There was no way out of this situation, not a thing she could do. So, at least she could _take_ it.

The Joker blinked as he watched the shift in her face, seeing the fear and the fight leave, though the defiance somehow remained.

When he'd walked into the place, he hadn't expected to find _any_ thing out of the ordinary. Just a quick bite, something to drink, and then he and the boys would be off on their merry way.

The waitress had turned out to be one of Lenny's friends, and _that_ had been a little entertaining, but then he lost interest in her, the distraction from the bar reminding him that it wouldn't really do to have Sleepy resent him if he hurt her. Not yet anyway. He'd just stow that thought away for later, if ever he needed it.

So, he'd just looked aimlessly around the room, subconsciously stowing away whatever he happened to observe. Well, until he'd happened to see something that he'd almost missed. Something…familiar. The girl standing at the bar. He'd tried to place just where, exactly, he'd seen her before. He sifted through his thoughts quickly until he placed it. The other night. The _damsel_.

And, just like that, the aimlessness took a turn to the purposeful as he stood and approached her. She tensed right away, understandably, but she also held his gaze _just_ like she had before. There wasn't much difference between her reaction now and what it was before.

Which was curious. Had his… _heroic_ act not phased her at all?

He greeted her, his mind sending her name to his tongue as he'd heard it from the man of the place. She said nothing, only nodded, nervous and on her guard.

He called her out on it.

And she responded honestly.

Then he called her out on her nervousness, and she'd answered honestly to that too. In fact, she didn't appear to hesitate at _all_ in telling him the truth. She wasn't afraid of the truth.

But then, he'd quickly arrived at a reason for why she was nervous. It was the same reason as everyone else.

She'd surprised him though, continuing in her honesty. And he'd searched her for a lie, to disprove that his scars _didn't_ have the effect they usually did. But there wasn't anything to doubt, so he'd searched for another reason.

Ah…of _course_. She was merely proving how lost in society's boundaries she was. She had said some disapproving thing in response to his conclusion, but he ignored it. It didn't matter. Whatever intrigue he'd briefly had with her disappeared and he brought out his knife, looking to her with a lack of interest.

There wasn't a thing that set this girl apart. She suddenly and concretely morphed into nothing but a pawn in his eyes. A piece in the grand design of life. A faceless card among the many.

And then she said something really foolish, and the dark, haunting presence inside him began to seep into his awareness. He reached for her almost automatically, instinctively, bringing the knife with him.

Some people just had to be _made_ to see. And nothing revealed who a person really was like being confronted with death. It was a very simple resolution to the situation. He'd take away that control she _thought_ she had. _Just_ like he'd done with Gambol not so much as an hour ago.

As expected, she showed fear. He saw that wave of dread take her. _There_ it was. There was the reason why she was exactly like everyone else, no matter how fervently she'd argued her case.

But _then_ …something happened. Her face _changed,_ he saw the fear disappear right before his eyes. He searched for it, waiting for it to come back. But it didn't.

So he thought of the broken glasses at her feet and thought maybe she would try to play the hero. That was what _that_ move had been about, right?

But she didn't. Like before, in that alleyway, she wasn't even bothering to beg. She looked …untroubled, having reached some sort of…calm.

Maybe she was giving up, resigning herself to death. Maybe life was too hard for her. Too much of a struggle. Maybe she _wanted_ death.

But the look that had taken her eyes said differently. It was a resolution, a determination.

He faltered. With her looking at him like that...he'd take no pleasure from the kill at all. He had the upper hand here, could slit her throat and feel nothing, but that look in her eyes held a power of their very own.

The initial observation he'd made about her was suddenly brought forth from the abyss of his thoughts, something he'd recognized almost right away when he'd first seen her. There was a subtle fire there inside of her, burning through her eyes, a quiet sort of…strength. It contrasted how very _loud_ her emotions were. They were just so very…obvious.

It frustrated him, but it was also…intriguing. When he was proven wrong about people, it was unsettling but also, _sometimes_ , pleasantly surprising. There was more to explore. How far could he push her? What would it take to break her? What would it take to put that fire of hers _out_?

He saw that smile of hers then, so very subtle, but still so significant. No, he suddenly decided that he didn't _want_ to kill her just yet.

"Hm?" He spoke, emerging from the silence, hand loosening around his knife. "That's a _curious_ way to react to a threat, Lucy."

She was silent for moment, before opening her mouth to respond. "I don't-" She swallowed and caught her breath, "I don't know how else to respond. There isn't…anything I can do about this situation. I can't _change_ it. I don't have control over it. But…" she trailed off, eyes flaring a little, hardening with the weight of her resolve. "What I _do_ have control over is how I face it. And that isn't something _anyone_ can take away from me."

The Joker stared her down, eyes hard, hand tightening and loosening around the blade of his knife. His darkness repeatedly receded and returned as he stood on the brink of deciding. On the one _hand_ he could always simply _slash_ away that look of hers, end her right here and right now.

But…again, on the other hand, it'd be so much more...productive to see what she was made of first. To explore it. To tear her apart, she how well she could hold up, see how far her defiance could be _pushed_. She wasn't giving in, she wasn't fighting, she was simply...taking it. She recognized how futile resisting was. Which was rather…intuitive of her.

There was something about her ability to maintain her control that…touched down on something deep and forgotten, but that observation slipped unheeded from his conscious thought.

A wide grin spread across the Joker's face. What a pleasant surprise she had turned out to be.

Lowering both of his hands, releasing her, he flicked his knife closed and returned it to his pocket. Lucy's eyes widened and she breathed out, creasing her brows a little.

Everything was simply on a whim to him, wasn't it? She saw the intent look in his eyes, so much more intent than it had been before, and she felt a sudden discomfort.

Had his sparing her been a mercy or a sentencing to something much worse?

"Well, well," The Joker said, tilting his head at her. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. _You_ know how to make things fun."

Lucy felt her heart increase a little. Oh, it was _definitely_ worse. She suddenly saw a malicious, plotting glint in his dark eyes and felt an instant, alarming dread in response. It felt like a weight had just been dropped into her stomach.

She reached up to steady herself against the counter and the Joker's eyes flashed down to her hand, before they suddenly seemed to grow curious.

She followed his gaze down and saw the paint there along her fingers. Then her eyes met his as she lifted them again. He said nothing, only stared expectantly.

"I…like to paint." She offered quietly.

He blinked and then momentarily seemed to regard her in a new light. Then he swiftly removed the glove from one of his hands, lifting it so she could see. Her eyes ran along the slender fingers of the mass murderer before her and at the messy evidence of his own artwork. It added something so...rustically ordinary to him.

Lucy's eyes lifted to his face then. It was weird to think about, but…those marks signified something else too. Some common activity. They'd both painted the exact same thing. They'd both painted that face of his.

"What a…coincidence," he said lowly, looking to her fiercely.

She met his eyes again, her hand clenching a little.

The Joker just observed the little girl silently then, eyes flickering just once more to that hand of hers as he lowered his. So she was an artist. Yet another intriguing trait to… _explore_. Oh, she was going to be _such_ fun!

When the man before her fell silent, Lucy glanced around the room, returning to her surroundings. She'd been a little too unaware of it all during her reaction with the Joker. Her boss still hadn't made an appearance, and she saw Vick standing and staring with wide eyes from the kitchen. She was frozen in place.

And the other customers in the room seemed to have taken it upon themselves to make a run for it. They were gone. Her brother and the other guys also seemed to tense, though the other two seemed more amused. Len, at least, looked partially concerned.

The Joker suddenly gave his head a little shake, his tongue darting out a second as her attention was drawn back to him. "Well, Lucy, I won't take up anymore of your _time_. After all…," his eyes drifted downward. "You have a mess to clean up, hm?"

He stepped back, mockingly waved and then turned to Len and the others. "Boys, let's uh…take this little gathering elsewhere, huh?"

They all nodded and stood, straightening their jackets. Len sent a brief glance Lucy's way, before following after the purple-suited clown.

Lucy just watched them all go, eyes held fast on the Joker. He didn't turn to look back at her, only disappeared right out the door and back into the night.

She stumbled and fell to the floor behind the counter, as everything seemed to spring back to life. It was like he had paused the whole world.

Victoria rushed over to her. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

Lucy just numbly nodded, closing her eyes and trying to reason through what had just happened, and what it would mean for her in the future.

She had his attention now, and she couldn't think of anything more horrifying.

What the hell was going to happen _now_?


End file.
